#and be unable to function for the next few days

[tytonidyke]

So many things I want to do and make but my body feels like it’s made of lead.. I got up and ate and took my pills and brushed my teeth and that’s about all I can manage right now. Back to bed. I hate feeling like I’m missing out on life.

[bitchlessdino]

Good Roommates Don't (m)

for @ddeonghwa-s secret cupid collab i recieved you @haologram! Secret Cupid Masterlist found here!

Pairing: roommate! Minghao x barista!afab!reader Word count: 14.1k rating: R Summary: Xu Minghao had been the most ethereal being you've ever laid your eyes on to the point being unable of functioning like a normal person, but now you're roommates. Only time will tell when you lose your mind keeping your hands to yourself, so there needed to be a list of things you don't do if you wanted to be a good roommate. tags: meet-ugly, strangers to roommates to lovers, college au, barista au, down bad!reader, mentions of band, brief bdsm, mc fell first he fell harder, cum swapping, spitting, oral (giving and receiving), face riding, unprotected sex author note: thank you @lovetaroandtaemin and @gyubakeries beta-reading this with me. after writing towtsyfdtotbycf (holy shit) i was in a little bit of a slump and had several and i mean SEVERAL versions of this and for months racked my brain how i wanted to do this. Alta, i care for you deeply and we've gotten close in the last year or so, so i really wanted to write something that would amuse you and that you'd enjoy. and if you hate it you can use it as leverage to berate me on discord lol. but please, my valentine, enjoy my gift to you. happy Valentines day Alta (and tell me was i really not that slick) <3

When you first met Minghao, you almost killed him trying to save his life. At least, that's what you thought you were doing.

All you had to do was bear a normal shift at the Coffee Shop, attempt a semblance of a smile for the oncoming customers, and clock out at your normal hour, but the universe couldn’t even give you that. Instead, they sent you the hottest guy imaginable, along with the swiftness of a gazelle, the strength of a gorilla, and the intuition of a garden gnome. That day just confirmed that some things were better left alone.

A few things were already going wrong that day. For one, your alarm didn't go off. The alarm being your mom, who usually kicked you out of bed first thing at 9 am, since she had a doctor’s appointment. Fair enough. The strings of fate got you there. All the more reason why moving out seemed like a distant dream rather than a close reality. Were you really capable of being a functioning adult? 

Then there was the bus and having to shell out twenty bucks for a Lyft when the next scheduled bus was reported to have broken down and was no longer an option. That twenty bucks could’ve been your meal for the next week, but no, being fiscally responsible was a circus act, and you were the clown being pied in the face repeatedly. As if you weren’t already putting on a face and juggling multiple things enough on a daily basis, today was no different. 

And then, you were late to work—which again, was nothing new—but you were hoping that Nayeon, who was scheduled as the shift manager, let you off with a warning. Yet, somehow, that went wrong as well, seeing that the shittier manager on your shift, Manager Fi, was present instead. And, by the look in the old man's eyes, he wasn’t happy about it either, especially considering he assigned you bathroom duty for the end of your shift to make up for your tardiness. He never liked you since you started. Then again, he didn’t like anybody, and vice versa.

This morning was bad omen after bad omen.

Leading up to finally meeting Minghao—tall, scorchingly hot Minghao, with lips that looked soft as clouds. You hadn’t seen him around before until today, and perhaps it should’ve stayed that way, because you couldn’t see yourself facing him ever again.

He walked in with his large group of friends, all almost nearly as charming as him with a handful of faces that you’ve seen once or twice, but none that stood quite out like his. He had the kind of face that made you want to paint murals, write ballads, or stare long enough to linger too long over the same spot you were cleaning on the counter, windshield wiping until the wet streaks you wiped off devolved to discoloration and damaged the countertop’s cheap sealant. Eventually, you averted your gaze to conceal your flushed cheeks—turning away in clear embarrassment, thinking about how much of a fucking creep you probably looked overtly gawking at him—but you’d soon realized that was the least of your worries. You’d soon wish it ended with you looking like a creep.

The next moment you lifted your eyes towards him again, you found him in a compromising position, one that had you thinking—and that was your first mistake. His face twisted with discomfort, and he gasped as he covered his mouth. A million thoughts raced through your mind, considering all the possible reasons for his distress, and one screamed the loudest above all, setting off alarm bells. So you—being meddling and troublesome you—acted on instinct.

Hopping over the counter, you raced towards him, pulled him off the booth which he was luckily on the edge of, and immediately attempted the Heimlich. Finally, your CPR certification could be put to use. You embraced him from behind, putting pressure on his ribcage as you launched and thrust yourself against him, forcing whatever was lodged in his throat out of his body.

“I’ve got you!” you exclaimed heroically.

You put in as much strength as you could muster, truly hoping to save a life today, thinking out of all things that have gone wrong today, at least this would be one thing you’ve done right. You could feel your ancestors looking down on you to witness a proud moment in your otherwise boring and mundane life. 

After several rough collisions with his body, he eventually spat something chewed up and unsightly onto the booth’s table, drawing the attention of several onlookers if your boisterous shouting hadn’t already. His friends were quick to look away, wincing in disgust while the cute boy doubled over in pain, holding himself by the ribs as you ran your eyes over at him in concern.

“Are you alright, sir? That must’ve been terrifying to suffocate on something so suddenly.”

He then finally lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed as anguish took over his features. “I wasn’t choking,” He rasped.

“...Come again?”

“Oh my god!” A third-party witness stood up dramatically from their seat. “This barista just saved this young man’s life!”

Suddenly, you were punished with attention, cheers specifically. All except the people who sat at the cute boy’s table clapped for you—or, rather at you now—and gave you standing ovations for your grand heroic act, when in fact, it wasn’t heroic at all. Meanwhile, you attempted to settle them down, flapping your hands dismissively and growing hot all over. You looked over the man you so-called saved as he strained to sit back in his seat, being tended by the friends he came with.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Shit, that looked like it hurt.”

“You probably shouldn't have been drinking it that fast, Minghao.”

It turned out you had severely miscalculated the situation. What appeared to be choking, prompting you to improperly administer a rough but appropriate Heimlich maneuver, was simply a mildly exaggerated reaction to hot coffee followed by a muffin to alleviate his burnt taste buds. You, of course, profusely apologized, as if you weren’t embarrassed enough for staring at him the whole time working your entire shift at the coffee shop because he was the most breathtakingly stunning person you’ve ever seen in your life. You might’ve just about broken his ribs and made his life flash before his eyes by abruptly slamming your body against him repeatedly, and not in the fun way.

Rather than an apartment, you were in desperate need of a hole deep enough to lead you to the core of the Earth to hide you from everyone else on the crust, ideally with cheap rent and good air ventilation. 

You bowed your head in humiliation, unable to meet any of their eyes, especially with the possibility of them remembering your face with a lawsuit waiting to happen. “I can’t believe that happened, I am so sorry. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know.”

“It’s okay, really, but I think we’ve had enough excitement for today if you don’t mind.” 

The attractive stranger—or Minghao, as you’ve learned from his friends who immediately rushed to him in concern—shook his hand in the air reassuringly. “Just, no more of that, alright? Make sure someone’s actually choking before trying to save them.”

“Right, please have a wonderful rest of your day,” you said, before returning to your station and disappearing behind the breakroom, screaming into your cubby and avoiding human interaction for as long as you could.

That scene replayed in your mind over and over like a recurring nightmare, burning the image of his beautiful face with such disdain for all eternity, while his name etched into your brain in permanent ink, embedded in every wrinkle in your brain. Minghao. A devastatingly beautiful name for a devastatingly beautiful owner.

Ugh. Get a fucking grip.

You just needed to get through the rest of the day. It would just be a couple more hours until your shift ended, and then you’d leave on the dot. It’d be just in time to make your appointment to meet your new potential roommate. Hopefully, it would be the silver lining of today’s catastrophic mess.

You met on electronic class forums while attending the same Cultural Studies course and somehow ended up relying on each other for notes. By your chat history, you seemed to have a lot in common—with the exception of his preference for tea over artisanal coffee—and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get giddy seeing the green circle next to his username. Recently, he had just talked about moving into town after pondering the idea for so long, and as fate may have it, you’ve been looking for your own place to stay. You figured he seemed nice enough, and he even offered a reasonable quote on rent. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. You just hoped he was as friendly in real life as he was online—with the day you had, you needed a win.

And, that win started with Chinese food, his choice, and it was a good one. You hadn’t been at this location before, taking note of the old-fashioned aesthetic touched by the harshness of modern neon signs that lit even the darkest of hallways. You were now thinking you ought to come more often as the heavenly notes of soy, ginger, and whatever concoction bled through the kitchen curtains and wafted through your nostrils the moment you passed through the double doors. Immediately, you were greeted by the host, visibly tired and overworked, with dark circles under his eyes, before he led you to a table in the center of the restaurant. You settled your nerves with a glass of water, trying to let the horrific events from today fade to as black as the soy sauce loitering on your table, waiting for a plate of dumplings to accompany them.

Funny how you could still have an appetite after everything that happened.

It wasn’t too long after you heard the same doors you walked through open, setting off the familiar sound of its wind chimes. You peered behind you, catching a glimpse of the new arrival, and immediately spun back in your seat, startled by the face that passed through your eyes. Trepidation brewed within you as the unsolicited visitor had your stomach in knots. 

You couldn’t take another incident tonight. 

You slunk into your seat, burying your chin in your shirt, hoping you’d somehow camouflage into your seat, facing away from the new arrival. Meanwhile, his eyes skimmed the room, walking in with purpose without guidance and greeting the employees as if he were right at home. Fortunately, he had yet to notice your presence as you slinked out of view the moment he passed by you to sit at the bar, while you made way into a booth in the dark corner of the restaurant, cursing the fates for their cruel games once again. You just had hoped that your new roommate would hurry it up already so you could get out of here before you were discovered.

And after about ten minutes, it felt as if all hope was lost. There was no sign of them and you were wondering if you had been stood up. Amid your anticipation, you were forced to pay attention to the person you were avoiding, seeing his patience wear thin with the tap of his foot as he sipped the last of his iced tea. Not a moment too soon, you saw him pluck his phone out from his pocket, fingers skittering over the screen before bringing it to his ear and scanning the restaurant’s floor plan. In the same instant, your phone went off,  blaring your cursed ringtone, ‘Pocketful of Sunshine’, and the realization��along with the panic—quickly set in. 

Alerted by the noise, his head whipped up from his screen. His eyebrows rose in shock, not all expecting the outcome that arose, and he dropped to his feet and quickly darted toward the sound that you—for the life of you—could not turn off fast enough. His footsteps matched the rate of your heart pounding in your chest, growing louder and closer until he found the source and located you cowering in the corner.

You lifted your head to lock eyes for the first time since this morning just as you finally managed to silence the ringtone and gave him an awkward laugh, waving with your phone in hand. Taking a nervous gulp, you awaited his disappointment, expecting him to make his quick exit after evaluating in the two seconds of your meeting that this arrangement would not work out because you were a deranged psycho with a savior complex. To your pleasant surprise, that didn't happen. Instead, you were met with a gentle smile and a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “There you are.”

You forced a sheepish chuckle. “Here I am, ha.”

Minghao softly chuckled before tucking his phone in his back pocket. “And to think just this morning you ‘saved my life.’”

You shut your eyes tightly, hands pressing together as if begging for forgiveness. “Again I am so, so sorry for that. It did look like you were choking.”

He shook his head reassuringly. “So you’ve said. I’m Minghao, or PalE8. Nice to meet you, CafeMixr0.”

“Is it…nice to meet me?” You asked dubiously.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You blinked incredulously. “Well, for several reasons.”

He shrugged before entering the booth and leaving a healthy distance to sit just across from you. “Can’t think of any. Have you ordered anything yet?”

You shook your head, befuddled by his nonchalance, waiting to see the catch, if there was any.

“Good thing I know everything worth ordering.” His hand shot up before grabbing the attention of a server to get his order taken.

You weren't sure where the night was going. All you knew was the boy that you almost killed this morning was sitting across from you looking as breathtaking as he did this morning, even while slurping up his stir fry that was glossed with a sheen of chilli oil and swelling up his already full lips. Rather than a roommate meetup—if that was still the case—it felt like a date, a date you were exceedingly ill-prepared for.

Suddenly, you could feel the sweat on the back of your knees, feeling the strong urge to sniff the clothes on your back, unsure when the last time you did a fresh load of laundry and if your current attire was included in that load at all. Not to mention that bathroom duty that was forced upon you, which no doubt seeped into your clothes. You were better off naked, but then that would be an entire different kind of meeting, wouldn’t it?

“You’re okay, right?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from your spiraling thoughts as you barely finished your portion of chow mein—which was absolutely heavenly, to put it lightly.

He let out a light chuckle before kindly reassuring you. “How many times are you going to ask me? You and everyone from this morning. I’m fine, able-bodied and everything.” 

“I just felt really bad. You looked really hurt.”

He couldn’t suppress his grin, finding your cautiousness amusing, but it only added to your unease. “I was hurt. You’re really, really strong.”

You winced. “Again. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a quality of a good roommate.” He finished the last bit of his meal before dropping a couple of bills without asking for the tab. “Come on. I’ve got to show you the apartment.”

You raised an eyebrow while sipping your warm tea before tapping your mouth with a napkin. “You still want to room with me? After this morning?”

“There’s not a lot of good options for roommates in the city, and what are the odds that you’ll try to kill me twice?”

He had a fair point, and it wasn’t like you had options lining up either. You just had to hope he didn’t regret taking this chance on you.

A big reason why you wanted to move out was to learn to be on your own, but in addition to that, the city had pretty much everything to offer. The city had it all, from job opportunities to the right people to meet, and the apartment Minghao led you to was the center of the entirety of it. High above the town square, in a room several floors up, there was a nook that had a view through a large window overlooking everything within about a two-mile radius. If there was anything nice to say about the city, it definitely looked better from where you were standing. The street lights illuminated streets, neon signs brought the local businesses to life, and people that ran the night life lived it to the fullest in the flashiest clothes imaginable. You had never seen your city like this before.

Meanwhile, the apartment itself was gorgeous and already fully furnished with stylish furniture and greenery that touched the kitchen and living room. It was graced with Minghao’s taste in art and an eccentric—but tasteful—color palette of warm browns, olive greens, and rustic oranges. It felt like walking into Minghao’s mind, seeing into his world, and you were given the opportunity of it being yours, being part of his world. He was generous enough to even let you pass through the front door.

“So?” he asked, gauging your interest, watching as you looked down at the city from the large window nook in awe.

You softly scoffed, unable to take your eyes off the beautiful view calling to you like a siren at sea.  “Um, I’m sorry, you had trouble finding a roommate, how?”

He crossed his arms, admiring the sight with you, glancing at you through his peripheral vision and grinning when he saw the childlike sparkle in your eyes. “I’m new to the city, and everyone I know here has their own living arrangements. I didn’t want to go too far in looking for a new roommate. I thought we'd work well together, since we’re based in the same city now and have a lot in common based on our conversations.”

“I almost killed you this morning,” You’ve pointed out to…death.

“Although you’re…impulsive and unpredictable, I’ve seen worse. I think I’ll manage.” He splayed his hand in front of you, gesturing for a shake to officially seal the deal. “What do you say? Do you still want to be roommates?”

Everything about this screamed it was a bad idea. Putting aside the fact that you nearly killed the man, you could barely stand in the presence of him without your mind drifting to dark waters. It didn’t take rocket science to understand that putting you in that same living quarters with Minghao meant you might have to live every day together with your hands tied behind your back and thighs taped shut. You’ve surprised yourself with how you’ve managed to keep your composure sharing the same air—the air you were even thinking of savoring as you contemplated this offer.

You were down-righteously-bad. You weren’t a fit roommate for Minghao in the slightest.

Yet, you took his hand, letting his cool palm clash with your warmth as his digits wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before shaking. “Let’s do it.”

And that marked the start of a new chapter of your life, unraveling the challenge of being Xu Minghao’s roommate. Only, he wasn’t the challenge. He was a breath of fresh autumn air. He was kind beyond words and accommodating in every step of your move. You were already familiar with his gentle and patient nature, as he had frequently taken the time to clarify complex ideas for class, and you’ve learned about the majority of his interests prior from your online discussions, but seeing PalE8’s traits in person—embodied in Minghao—was bizarre. You realized he was still a stranger after all. A stranger that claimed your breath with a single bat of his eyes and turned your stomach inside out worse than a bad case of food poisoning, no less.

Meanwhile, the neighbors knew him by name, were endeared by his presence, and found him to be a delightful conversationalist as well as a helping hand when the situation called for it. He was better than your friendly neighborhood spiderman. He was your kind, considerate, intricately woven, beautifully complex, and knees-bucklingly handsome Minghao. 

You weren’t usually a sexual deviant, at least not to this extent, but Minghao brought something out of you that you hadn’t felt for another person. However, if you were going to live together, that had to change. This crush was going to have to dwindle out of existence if you wanted to live together—emphasis on you—in peace.

So, that’s when you decided to make a list of rules that only you had to follow. Sure, you were an adult, and the thought of giving yourself rules to keep your hands to yourself was juvenile and stupid, but for the sake of your sanity, you were looking for anything that might work. That’s when you decided to make a list of things “good roommates don’t do”, thinking it would be shorter and easier to sum up than a long redundant list of things good roommates would do, and the first thing to top the list was easy.

Good roommates don’t almost kill each other (again).

That seemed easy enough to remember, considering the first time was traumatic enough, and fortunately, it didn’t take too much effort, considering you hardly saw each other despite living together. 

You ended up taking up more shifts at work, desperate enough to even join the catering team, to keep yourself busy and afford the new expense of rent, sacrificing a lot more of your free time. Meanwhile, Minghao’s work schedule was not only demanding, it was inconsistent. Working at a popular art gallery as an artist and attendant with frequent and erratic events to go to until late at night prompted your roommate to be seen home a lot less than expected. By the time either of you got home, there wouldn’t be so much of a hello or goodbye either, just the sounds of bodies falling on beds in either rooms as the day’s fatigue engulfed you until you succumbed to sleep.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little disappointed by these circumstances, but then again, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Seeing him as little as you did meant less opportunity for you to screw things up around him, because it seemed to happen quite frequently when he was around. The few times you did cross paths, you still found ways to humiliate yourself.

“That’s mine.”

You held the toothbrush mid-scrub, bubbles foaming at the corners of your mouth, “Eh?”

“I think you’re using my toothbrush.”

Your cheeks immediately grew warm, and you shielded your face with the back of your hand. You spat into the sink and splashed water on your face to rid yourself of toothpaste residue before turning back to respond, his words jumbling in your head and bouncing from corner to corner to process them. “I-I don’t think so, this is the one I always use.”

He snickered, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms, delectably dressed down in a gray tank top and sweatpants. The tempting taste of domesticity was sweet and permeated your tastebuds. “If that’s the case, we’ve been sharing, because I’ve always kept my brush there in the marble cup. Yours should be behind the medicine cabinet where you first left it.”

“What? You sure?” you pinned the used toothbrush on the sink’s porcelain before cracking open the medicine cabinet. “I’m pretty sure I took it—Ah!”

Startled by your findings, you dropped the toothbrush you gripped in your hand onto the floor when you’ve proven Minghao right as his toothbrush fell to the ground, now defiled with your oral bacteria and whatever was on the floor. The one day you take a shift later than usual because a member begged to take on more shifts, it blew up in your face. Seokmin, you will rue the day. “I-I’ll clean it!” You offered in a panicked tone.

He pushed himself off the threshold, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t, please. It’s dirty; I can just replace it.”

Filled with guilt, you stepped aside to watch him pick up the dirty brush before disposing of it in the waste bin, “Sorry.”

“You say that a lot.” 

He pulled a fresh toothbrush out of a drawer and ripped it out of its packaging. It was notably identical to his previous and your current abandoned toothbrush, down to the bristles. “No worries. See,” he turned the new hygiene tool for inspection, “Clean.”

“Regret having me as a roommate yet?” you joked anxiously towards his reflection in the mirror.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing I can’t manage. I lived in a boarding house full of guys that shared things without asking and it didn’t stop at toothbrushes. You’re the first roommate I’ve had that’s apologized. I say that’s an upgrade.”

He went on to brush his teeth with his newly obtained brush, christening the bristles with a squeeze of fluoride toothpaste before scrubbing against his pearly whites. He never ceased to amaze you with his aloof attitude towards the situation, as if he’d become accustomed to your chaos when he didn’t need to be at all. This situation, however, did indicate that you had another thing to be added to the list.

Good roommates don’t use each other’s toothbrush (even by accident)

In your room just before you left for work, you haphazardly added to the list you put on a crumpled piece of paper you kept in your wallet, ensuring you held your list close before setting the pen aside. Your heart pounded against your chest, thinking what that had meant all this time. How you’ve pretty much swapped saliva nearly every day with Minghao since moving in. The fact that it had gone on for so long repulsed you, but not anymore than the tiny part of yourself that maybe had always known and continued to do it. 

You held your digits to your lips, brushing the pads against the slit of your mouth, ragged breaths slowly leaving your lungs as you reached your enamel. Tension pooled in your stomach as the images that infiltrated your dreams were currently being conjured in your consciousness, while arousal chased down your legs as you clenched them together. Jolted back to reality, you wound your eyes shut, remembering how little he cared about the matter, how nonchalant he was when he found out. Meanwhile, here you were: perverse, losing your mind, and letting your imagination run wild like a hormonal teenager with her celebrity crush. 

Fuck. You needed a night out. You had been cooped up in the apartment for too goddamn long. The only other place you went was work, and knowing labor laws, they had to give you a night or two off for all the time you’d been putting in. There was a whole outside world, and you needed to buck up and take advantage of it. You had to do something other than fawn over your very hot roommate. Losing some spare change was worth the sanity. At least, you hoped it was.

“You going out tonight?”

Hearing a familiar tenor voice, your head lifted up from fixing the strap of your shoes to see him remove his coat and store it away in the front entrance closet. “Oh, you’re home,” you stated.

“Yeah. The gallery is closed tonight for a bigger show this weekend, so I have a couple days where I’m off earlier than usual.”

More time for Minghao to be at home. Great. 

You nodded, keeping your cool at the sight of his turtleneck hugging his lean and toned frame, making your heart work overtime in place of you this evening. “I see, but yeah. A couple of my friends and I are trying out that new place that just opened up in midtown.”

“Oh, let me know how that goes. Me and some friends had plans to go there too.”

“Okay.” You hurried your way to the door. “Don’t wait up.”

“Wait.”

Hand on the door knob, you cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut as if bracing for impact before opening them, and turned around with an innocuous expression. “Yes?”

He held out his hand. “Your phone please.”

“Hmm? Why,” you asked, unlocking it before complying.

He smiled accepting it, before swiping his fingers off the screen. “I’m sending myself your location.”

And there your heart when pitter-patter again at thoughtful and kind hot as fuck Minghao. “I just told you where I’d be.”

“That could always change. Here,” he said, handing your phone back, beaming back at you warmly. “Just in case something happens, and you can always call me if you feel unsafe, okay?”

You gave a soft pout, cheeks growing warm at the thought of Minghao’s concern over you. It pleased you more than it should’ve. “Thanks. What are you gonna do tonight?”

He shrugged, taking a quick glance over his shoulder. “Maybe do some light reading and tea, paint if inspiration hits me.”

You gave a small grin, thinking just how Minghao those activities sound. “Sounds enlightening. Okay. I’ll be home soon.”

“Be safe.”

Even long after you’d left, you kept thinking about that interaction. How domestic it felt, how safe it made you feel, how seen you really were. It made you wonder if he was tracking you right now, looking at his phone, staring at the dot indicating where you were located. You wondered if he was thinking about you right now, because you were most certainly thinking about him.

Your mission of trying to forget Minghao by going out definitely was not working, but you took that as a sign to keep drinking. Your friends didn’t get to see you often with how much you worked, so they were just happy to see you were having a good time, not knowing you were trying to drown out the consuming thoughts of a certain man with a peculiar color scheme. 

They wouldn’t have known the way you let yourself get felt up by a stranger near the dance floor, standing so close you could smell the knock off cologne he was practically bathing in as his breath hung in the air against your neck. When it went nowhere, he eventually left, looking for prospects elsewhere, while you stuck to your mission, seeing it work at some point at night. Until it didn’t, but you didn’t remember because eventually it’d all fade to black.

Your eyes ripped open, waking up with the biggest headache, blinded by the natural rays of light bleeding through blinds—only your room didn’t have blinds. You specifically made sure to have blackout curtains because you couldn’t stand waking up to the sun, and that hasn’t ever changed. Grumbling irritatingly along the lines about who turned on the lights, you flipped on the other side of the bed with a half awoken daze, your blurry vision making out a lumpy figure underneath the covers.

You drew closer in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were seeing before taking in the fact the lump had a face as blinding as the sun you turned away from, startling you upon recognition. Your eyes shot open, wide awake now, and you nearly stumbled out of the mattress before his arms grabbed you, latching on you before you could fall off and safely secured you in his tucked embrace. 

“It’s a bit early for your charming antics, isn’t it?” Minghao chucked with closed eyes.

You blinked back at him, licking your lips anxiously. “How am I here right now?”

His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light. “You mean alive or in bed with me?”

Your cheeks grew hot. “B-both.”

“I wish I had an answer for the first question, but it seems your creator had more plans for you. As for your second concern, you seemed confused and tired, and I assumed you confused this bed for yours.”

“You should’ve kicked me out.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing his hands over your shoulders and sending a chill down your spine. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You let out a soft sigh, ridden with guilt. “I’d deserve it. I must’ve been annoying to deal with.”

He knitted his brows together, the corner of his lips softly turning down. “You really don’t like yourself.”

“No—well, maybe not lately. Maybe I’m just coming to the realization I’m not a good roommate.”

“No one is good at anything their first time.”

“You’re not denying it!”

“You’re a fine roommate.” Patting you on the back, he threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, leaving his room to trod toward the kitchen. You followed after curiously, like a duckling that imprinted on its mother, watching as he pulled out ingredients from the fridge’s shelves. “Anything you’re allergic to?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Nothing comes to mind.” You answered hesitantly.

“Good. The recipe is fairly easy anyway, it shouldn’t kill you.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly stood by his side as he set all the items down, he followed with gathering bowls and cookware. “You’re cooking for me?”

“Mmh-hmm.”

“You don’t have to.”

He turned his head slightly. “You have a headache, don’t you?”

“Yes but—”

“It’s just egg drop soup.” He patted your shoulder nodding his head over at the counter stool either of you would often have breakfast. “Sit. It’ll be done in a few minutes.”

You sat patiently by the counter, watching him chop and throw ingredients into a small pot, which filled your shared residence with a savory aroma. As soon as he was done, he presented the dish in front of you, garnishing it with fresh chopped scallions and parsley. He picked up a serving with a soup spoon and gently blew on the top before taking a quick sample and grinning at the result. Scooping with the same spoon, he held a serving towards you with proud eyes.

“Try it,” he urged.

As you accepted the offering, you tried not to think about how you were about to share yet another household item that would enter both your mouths and let the simple flavors fan out on your tongue, the warmth of soup dispersing throughout your body. You hummed in delight, already feeling it work its magic. “It’s delicious,” you said softly.

He grinned. “Feel better.”

“Thanks, Minghao.”

“No problem at all.” 

As you enjoyed your thoughtful breakfast, your roommate cleaned up his mess. He wiped down whatever residue was left behind before heading to his room and coming out properly dressed in brown slacks and muted green patterned sweater when you were just about done eating. “Heading to work now.”

“You had work?” You asked surprised, “Why did you waste time cooking? You could have left already.”

He softly scoffed heading to the door. “I spent—what, five or ten minutes? It’s fine. See you later.”

In the last 24 hours, Minghao managed to make sure you were safe by tracking your location, gave you a good night's rest by not disrupting your sleep, and made you breakfast right before work. Then there’s you, black out drunk with almost no memory of last night (probably good you didn’t), annoying your overly nice and overly hot roommate, hogging a bed that isn’t yours, and eating a home cooked meal that probably set back his schedule. You were the worst. All the more reason for a new addition to the list.

Good roommates don't sleep in their other roommate’s bed piss drunk (again)

It seemed that this list of “don’ts” was getting longer, probably because you’re an awful roommate, and if there was a reward, yours would already be at the front door. You really, really had to make an effort to do something about this arrangement. Now that some time had passed and these interactions were becoming more frequent, avoiding him seemed to be out of question unless you wanted to give him the wrong impression. You would just have to become a better roommate, and that started with making up for this morning.

In the following months together, to atone for the bed incident and good deeds that followed suit, you shared the occasional breakfast if you had time (that is if you didn’t burn anything), even sometimes grabbing dinner or a late meal in the small gap before or after work. While in the late hours, when both of you should’ve been sleeping, you’d have a cup of your favorite beverages. He’d have his brew of tea for the night while you’d have a mug of coffee, awake under the stars and basking in the night, watching from the nook that you both grew fond of that was in the direction of the moon when it’s at its peak.

Of all people to share these moments with, you couldn’t imagine it with anyone else but Minghao. He was the peace amongst the chaos, the quiet you came home to after dealing with the noisy world that helped you heal like nothing else. You liked that about him, and now you were liking him too much, to the point you thought of him every day. What it’d be like for him to hold you in his arms, letting his warmth envelop your entire being the way his voice naturally does with a simple “it’s okay.” 

You’d imagine how he’d look at you, how lovers do when they ache for one another so desperately they could feel it down to every atom. You’d thought of the words he’d say to you, the words he’d say to someone he’s madly, irrevocably besotted with, and every letter and word and sentence would be spoken poetry. He’d feel like love. You didn’t think it was possible for you to grow more attracted to him, but learning all these wonderful things he does and seeing up close and personal how beautiful inside and out he was, you were developing feelings and growing all these desires that you were ashamed to admit out loud.

And with that, you pulled out your list and a pen, jotting in a new item.

Good roommates don’t live in every waking moment staring at them or thinking about wanting to kiss them (no matter how hard it is)

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve already broken that rule, but the least you could do was hold yourself accountable.

However, writing the rule didn't prevent future instances. Not from fantasizing, not from wet dreams, not from imagining a life together where you rid all your inhibitions and clothes and succumb to drowning in each other. Unlike every other rule that you’ve managed to avoid, this one was the outlier, flipping your world on its head and preoccupying every second of your thoughts with all things Xu Minghao. And what sucked was you were so guilt ridden, you couldn't even let yourself enjoy it. 

This was your roommate for crying out loud. Your wholesome, nice, forgiving, and tolerant roommate that went beyond what was necessary to make you feel at home and comfortable. Only time will tell when he’ll see through you and finally kick you to the curb.

“Let’s go out.”

Your head lifted up from your phone with eyes large as saucers. “What?”

“We haven't really done anything together,” he suggested, cleaning up the dishes of the dinner you both had just had.

It was one of the few nights that you were both free. The coffee shop had more than enough staff, and you’ve exhausted the hours put in, while the art gallery was planning a grand exhibition, so they needed all hands on deck for the mornings for a few weeks, but evenings would be free until the week of. That left you two a lot more free time than you knew what to do with.

“We see each other all the time,” you pointed out.

“At home. We don’t hang outside the apartment aside from that one dinner the first day we met, so let’s go out.”

You blinked, watching him grab his coat before you could argue as he waved you over, his smile luring you closer and putting you under his spell without you realizing until it was too late. “Uh, where? It’s 9PM.”

“Anywhere.”

For someone who had only arrived in town a couple months ago, Minghao knew a lot of the good spots in the city.  If it wasn’t food, it was book stores. If it wasn’t book stores, it was tea shops. He had a clear plan of the city, and without so much looking at a GPS, he could find his way around better than any native. And considering all the people he came with that day you met the coffee shop and all the staff at the Chinese restaurant, his index didn’t stop at places. He seemed more familiar with the people in your hometown than you were. Between you two, he looked like the real local.

Walking alongside your roommate, you turned to him curiously, “How do you know the city so well when you’ve moved in somewhat recently?”

He gave a soft smile looking into the distance, as if the gust of wind that passed through you both hit him with a wave of nostalgia. “I’ve been visiting for about four years. I only had the guts to become a resident recently.”

“Why’d it take you so long?”

“Student visa processes, paper work, all those things. Also, this city is great, and everyone I've met and have become close with is amazing, but home is just home. It’s all I’ve ever known.” He let out a deep sigh, taking in a deep breath before stretching out his arms and let fall back to his sides, turning slightly to you. “This country and town has become a second, though, some things even my home can’t beat.”

You mused at that, intrigued that he could find something appealing in here, then again you've been here all your life, yet Minghao showed you more you could ever imagine of it. “Like what?”

He simply smiled as their feet stopped at their final destination, a location they both aimlessly walked towards just a little off the center of the town. “I’ll tell you, as soon as we try this place out.” 

Just off the center of town was a bar you had never heard of with a theme you’d never thought to put together on your own and definitely a place you’d never think to walk into with your roommate you were trying to keep platonic feelings for.

“Hey sexy babies, welcome to the Love in Leather BDSM Bar, where all your sexy dreams can come true.”

Oh, my god.

You were petrified. Every wall was decorated with leather or latex, either on display in a box, on a vulgarly displayed mannequin, or on an employee that was dressed in next to nothing, leaving no room for imagination. You weren’t shy about the theme of BDSM—there was always a small part of you curious about it—but it’s not like you’ve talked extensively about it with Minghao. The same person you were trying really hard not to think about sleeping with, which was especially hard in a place that served ‘cum shots’ and with their special for tonight being ‘buttery nipples.’

Glancing back at your roommate to get his reaction, he seemed to be just as startled with his findings as you were, but perhaps not as terrified as he should be, taking you by the wrist and weaving through the crowd with a marveled expression. You were grateful for the loud music playing the explicit versions of songs you wouldn’t otherwise hear on the radio, drowning out the sound of your heavy breathing and the loud thrum of your heart. You just had hoped he couldn’t feel your pulse under his fingertips, unable to untangle from his grasp as you felt the heat of his touch spread out through your whole body. You were trapped in a web you didn’t want to leave and that was the hardest kind to be in.

Suddenly, lights poured on the center stage of the bar. The music then slowed down, transitioning to another song, and a scantily leather clad woman entered that would erupt cheers of all clients seated in the chairs in front of her, to which she sent an air kiss and wink. Following the crowd, both you and Minghao decided to cheer along with them, your sounds of encouragement drowned out in the more enthusiastic and obscenely creative audience members of the establishment. Walking across the stage, she made a show of it, caressing her body in ways that would have a man on his knees howling at the moon (which you swore you heard once or twice in there) as money was thrown strewn stage like confetti, enough to pay for a few nice dinners uptown. After garnering the excitement, she descended down the steps of the stage, walking into her live audience. Her eyes skimmed through the endless crowds of people, landing on and picking one lucky front row member—a young, spry man no older than twenty-five—and brought him on stage, ensuing roars and applause, indicating the start of the real show.

What happened next was something you did not want to get into detail, but in layman’s terms, that audience member was having the time of his life with the use of a flog while everyone watched. You could only make the distinction of excruciating pain and pleasurable pain by the very loud affirmations coming out of his mouth and bouncing off the board he face planted on, and the words that passed through one of your ears and never wanted to come out the other. You were slack jawed from the scene, not at all expecting this scene today, and holy shit, you could not feel more suffocated knowing Minghao was witnessing all of this beside you. 

He stared back at the scene, expression unreadable, but he seemed interested and unable to look away like it was an oncoming train wreck, looking as if he was stuck on the tracks and was making sense of what he was seeing. Suddenly, his eyes locked with yours and you watched as they softened with a glint of something behind them before you swiveled your head, feeling yourself burn from your face to your ears, clenching your free hand. This felt eerily like a date, but unlike the first dinner, this felt like a real one. An immense sexually charged one. 

You were surrounded by sex at all angles, being tested to the most extreme degree. Tonight, you’ve learned dominance wasn’t particularly your thing, but if it were Minghao, perhaps you wouldn’t have minded. 

But this, this was overwhelming. As if sensing your turmoil, Minghao tugged your wrist, making you fix your gaze on him again and read the words that he mouthed from his lips. “Time to run.”

Your fingers interlocked and feet picked up speed as you headed toward the door, running aimlessly for miles out of the bar in fits of smiles and laughter. There was no plan and no destination, you both just wanted out, and you’d only stop running when you reached a bridge, both your bodies collapsing against the metal railing. You both gave out in heavy pants, your breaths mingling as you faced one another. 

“That’s crazy,” you managed to rasp. “Why did we think we could go in there?”

He gave you a tired grin back, looking in the direction from which you came. The light layer of perspiration made his shirt cling to his skin, and you get a sliver of his chest as he aired it out for comfort. “I don’t know. Try something new, but that.” He pointed where he faced. “That’s how I know so many places, I just walk inside.”

You ran your hand over your chest, baring the biggest grin. “Gosh. I feel like dying.”

“Iced coffee?” He kindly suggested.

“And tea?” You cared to offer.

Nodding back at each other, you both decided to walk the rest of the way back around, making a stop at a light night cafe and occupying their second floor balcony to taste the crisp air. As you sipped on your iced coffee and Minghao sipped on his warm tea, you quietly basked in the moonlit sky, as you’d done many times before. The adrenaline of tonight coursed through you still while you leaned against the railings and stared up at the stars, your elbows grazing close enough to spark that electricity that you’d feel whenever he ever got too close. This time, you were too tired to fight it, or you learned it’s about time you stopped trying to.

“I don’t drink coffee.” He abruptly confessed, penetrating the silence.

You softly scoffed, turning your head to him, taking his reminder as a jab for your ‘inferior’ tastes before taking a bigger sip of your delicious fresh roast press. “I know that. You prefer tea.”

“I mean, I don’t drink coffee, but the day you ‘saved me,’ I did.”

You hummed. “Oh. Yeah, you did. Funny. You got a coffee that day instead?”

He shook his head, smiling. “No, ask me why I drank coffee that day.” 

You rolled your eyes, placing your drink on the side table before leaning your elbows over the railing. “Okay. Why did you drink coffee, Minghao?”

“I drank my friend’s mug on accident, thinking it was my tea, then tasted how scaldingly hot and wretched it was—”

You gasped, offended as a barista, “I work really hard on those!”

He waved his hand to calm you down. “Let me finish. I mistook my normal tea for coffee…all because I got distracted, unable to stop thinking about the cute barista who wouldn't quit staring at me from behind the counter.”

“...I apologize for being a creep.”

He shook his head smiling and set his tea cup aside. “Not my point.”

You stared into the contents of your drink, shaking the ice inside as you stirred the straw, trying to find any remains of your beverage and stalling for time to follow up with a response. Lips pressed in a firm line, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, silence met on the other end as he keenly observed you, mirroring your posture while he sipped his tea. “So…You thought I was cute,” you managed to sum up.

“Thought…think…know.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You timidly asked.

“We’re roommates,” he reminded you, plain as day. “We should be honest with each other, right?”

“Honest,” you repeated, lethally soft.

“Yes, honest,” he confirmed just as quietly. “Don’t be afraid to tell me whatever is on your mind, just as I’ve told you what was on my mind.”

His honesty was cute, flattering. Your honesty could write up a restraining order. “Is that necessary? We only really live together.”

“It’s necessary because we live together, so yes, be honest about your feelings. Let me in on your thoughts, whatever they may be.”

Good roommates don’t forget to be honest about each other’s feelings.

He stood in front of you dangerously close, the lingering smell of his cologne that reminded you of the ocean wafting into your nose as he drew near. His gaze beckoned you close without so much a word passing through his lips, and you felt his presence close in on the distance as he leaned against the railing. You softly batted your eyes, adjusting to your sense being overtaken by all things Minghao, mind just filled to the brim with Minghao, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

“You’re really committed to being a good roommate. I respect that,” you stated, harshly gulping. “Honesty. Where can I start?”

“Well, what are you thinking about right now?” He asked, face mere inches away from you, lips so plush you let out a wistful sigh.

“I’m thinking that…it’s really hard to think with your face so close in front of me.”

Despite that, he didn’t move, and instead he pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, brushing against your helix to feel your flustered warmth bloom between his fingers. “Fair enough. What else?”

You wrapped your hand around the railing, stabling yourself on the floor in hopes of not falling over on your two feet, your breath being stolen in real time by your roommate who was looking more and more inviting by the second.

“And if I knew any better, I’d think you're about to kiss me.”

“Let’s wager that then,” he said as he reeled even closer, his fingertips once in your ears now guiding your chin, letting the surface of your lips feel the ghost of his as your breaths mingled against one another. “You can predict one of two things. One, I kiss you. Or two, I pull away. You get a prize if your answer is correct.”

“How is that a fair wager? You can easily change your response depending on how I answer,” you pointed out, ultimately playing along.

“I won’t,” he reassured in a coaxingly smooth tone. “I’ve made my choice.”

You raised a brow, attempting to look only subtly intrigued when in reality you’ve let him enchant you. “What’s my prize?”

“Loser grants whatever the winner wishes.”

“That’s irresponsible.”

“Knowing you, your request would be far from unreasonable.”

“I’m talking about you.” You narrowed your eyes, swallowing at seeing him come at you so close. “But, okay. I’ll play.”

The corner of his lips lifted mischievously, tilting his head to the side as his eyes narrowed back at you. “So, what’s your answer?” 

Your eyes flickered up to him, rounded up in intrigue as you tried to follow his gaze. “You’ll…pull away. Public displays of affection are cute, but maybe not your cup of tea, at least not grand ones like kissing, unless maybe it’s one the cheek or on the forehead.”

He smiled and gently tilted his head, eyes piercing into yours and taking a sharp breath before pulling away, crossing his arms with a soft pout on his lips. “You’re good.”

You felt the sting of rejection despite your victory, as if you’d hoped you’d be wrong. That he’d take you right there against the railing and give you a fervid kiss that broke you down to your knees and you could even taste in your dreams, but a win was a win. A predicted loss was better than a false victory.

“I guess I won.”

He sighed defeatedly, crossing his arms. “You did. So tell me, what desire would you like for me to fulfill for you?”

You shuddered at his choice of words, clamping your legs together. “Well, what would you have wanted me to do if I got the answer wrong?”

“Is that your wish? For me to answer the question?”

You softly scoffed. “Don’t be so cheap.”

He rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his tea, “Doesn’t matter, you didn’t get it wrong. You get the wish. So go on, tell me your wish.”

“…Fine. Grant me your wish as if you had won.”

“You want me to grant my own wish? That defeats the entire purpose,” he chortled with knitted brows.

“It’s my wish, so come on. What’s your wish?”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“And we didn't have to place bets, but it doesn't seem like there’s any rules against it, so go ahead. Tell me.”

Minghao sucked his teeth before complying. “Fine.” 

He moved toward you, hands settling over your hips and settling you on the floor beneath your feet as he gravitated toward, steadying his gaze on you. His face, inches away from you, and your breath hitched in your throat as he drew his lips near your ear. You heard the subtle squelch of his tongue as they licked his teeth, moments before the wish he dared you to grant poured out from his lush lips. “My wish is for you to…make me tea every morning, afternoon, evening, and every time I ask you to. Like my little tea gremlin.”

“Now that’s just evil, Xu Minghao,” You protested, lightly shoving him off.

He laughed. “No, it’s not! Think of it like pour over coffee.”

“Don’t try romanticizing it like it’s anything like my beautiful beans. Tea is tea. Coffee is coffee.”

“It was your wish to grant my wish.”

“Can I take it back?” You whined.

“It’d be dishonorable.”

You groaned. “Fine.”

He chuckled, “Let’s go home, hmm?”

Heading back home, you were embraced by a warm comfortable silence. There was a kind of silence that sanctioned your amicable living arrangement with Minghao to turn into something warmer, feverish even, something that you can’t even help but notice and your hands would occasionally graze one another on the way back, taking turn exchanging timid glances at you walked your path home.

“That was fun,” You admitted, taking off your shoes at the front door.

“Yeah, I think so. We should do it more often.”

You smiled at each other’s reflections as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, seeing you take the same tube of toothpaste and started brushing your teeth. You smiled as he purposely bumped into you, raising his eyebrow as you stared pointedly at him in the mirror, not expecting you to retaliate with a light shove. Ensuing a nudging war, you attacked each other’s shoulders, getting caught in fits of giggles before you forced yourselves to split up, knowing nothing would get done if you both let it go on.

“Do you work tomorrow?” You asked through the gaping door of your room as he cleared a glass a water before bedtime, freshly out of a shower and the smell of his clean, light fragrance was beguiling even from a distance.

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmh.” He stalked over in your direction, a feign innocent smile on his lips. “That's too bad. We only really have nights like these together, it seems at least only for a little while.”

“It is,” You said, lathering up the last bit of lotion up your legs, feeling his eyes on you as they traveled the path of your hands.

The silence engulfed you, as if both of you were waiting for the other to make a sudden move, yet both of you remained still. Like a predator with its prey, unsure who was who, you both stood with uncertainty and palpable tension hanging in the air, waiting for the other to strike when the moment was right. Even the usually confident Minghao stood back as he observed you from a distance, eyes flickering over at you as you strided slowly towards him guarded with crossed arms.

“I guess, I’ll go to sleep now,” You finally said.

His gaze softened, nodding. “Okay,” he smiled, “good night.”

“Good night, Minghao. Sleep well.”

If only you had taken your own words to heart. 

That night, you couldn’t help but stare back at the ceiling, fiddling with the covers as the night’s events replayed in your head like a home movie, your thoughts traveling at a million miles a minute, too fast for you to stop and collect them—let alone process them—and stole your precious slumber. So, as you lay in bed awake at night, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the night to take you, waiting for the fatigue and sleep to come, it never arrived. Instead, your eyes ripped open, heart pounding in your chest as you sat up from the mattress and tore the covers off your body. Your legs pushed you off the bed and lifted yourself off, carrying yourself out the room and out the hallway with determined steps until faltering at the threshold of another front door before you softly knocked. 

You turned the knob, the door creaked open and you peeked your head through to see your roommate on the other end in bed, torso visibly bare as he slowly sat up at his late night intrusion. “Hey,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “You’re up.”

“I think it’s the coffee,” you excused, clutching the edge of the door, “I can’t sleep.”

Wordlessly, he nodded, stretching an arm to beckon you towards him, and you slowly inched closer to him until you were completely under the covers. Occupying the space beside him, you nestled into the contours of his body as his arm cushioned the side of your head before facing one another, silence enveloping you. The only sound that bit into the silence was muted traffic, infinitely alive outside the walls of your confines. While it looked peaceful, and you felt as though you could melt into his arms, neither of you looked as if you were trying to sleep.

Rather, you stared at one another, making sleep even harder to attain as you traced every feature and took them in as if they were brushstrokes on a painting. Minghao may have worked with art every day, but he was a work of art in his own right, and you couldn’t help favor him above all others. You didn’t need a Van Gogh or Picasso, you had an original, a one of a kind Minghao.

And that’s when you saw his eyes begin to drift, lowering to the bottom half of your face, lips parting in intrigue as his breath fanned lightly against your cheeks. Your face flush in response, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth before they were caught, finding yourself doing the same with him and watching his mouth move in anticipation. You felt your pulse in your throat as much as you felt it between your legs, feeling arousal pooling and soaking your shorts.

“Do you want to wager another bet?” Minghao softly offered.

“What kind?” You breathed.

“The same bet, same prize. Do you think I’ll kiss you, or will I pull away?”

You mused at him, fingers extending toward him reluctantly, aiming for a lock of his hair laying stray on his forehead before smoothing it over his head, softly stroking him, feeling him lean into your touch. “Hmm, this time you’ll…kiss me,” you whispered with absolute certainty. “The tension is practically eating you alive.”

A grin stretched wide across his cheeks as a hand softly clasped over your face, thumb swiping across your cheek. “Right again.”

He closed the gap, slotting his lips between yours and languidly moving against you, letting you chase after his pace. You sighed against him, feeling his hand on your hip as he pulled your torso against his, the other rested against the nape of your neck as he reveled in your heat. Hands flying in his hair, you softly moaned as he kneaded your skin, feeling him trace the inside of your mouth with his tongue before he roughly pulled your weight from the mattress to topple you over him, letting your legs card between his.

“Minghao,” you quietly sounded against his lips, crushing your hips against his groin and hearing his sweet moan in response.

His muscles tensed as you pressed against him, while his legs clung to your thighs. His hands ran over the shape of your figure, unearthing an ungodly moan from your lips as he slipped beneath your shorts, etching over the curve of your ass and claiming your raw flesh in his hands, pushing you against him assertively.

You whimpered, grinding against him. “I know my wish.”

“Anything,” He tenderly mumbled.

“Call off work tomorrow.”

He smiled against your lips, bringing one of his knees to pin your bodies closer together. “Means you should too.”

“Oh, definitely,” You confirmed before reconnecting your mouths in a frenzied liplock.

Feeling the grind of your hips as his pelvis crushed against yours, his grunts slipped through every caress as his hand moved up your back. Soon, you started feeling something you had yet to see from Minghao in all your time living with him, the part of him you managed to evade but have envisioned a multitude of times, growing in his sweatpants and rubbing against your thigh the closer your bodies were.

“I have never wanted someone so bad,” He whispered in a soft ache. 

His hands crept underneath your shirt, brushing against your skin, pressing against the small of your back. Pressing his torso towards you, his erection adhered to your thigh, the tension coiling in your stomach burned like wildfire, at an unstoppable rage. “Minghao,” you mewled, impatience singeing on your tongue.

“Somehow, I can still taste coffee on your breath, but I don't really mind it. It tastes really good on you,” He admitted before kissing you deeper, his moans buzzing against your mouth, hungry and alive as his hands dug into your flesh with utter greed.

“You taste really good too.” Your hand body scoured south, cupping his size under your palm and tasting his gasp as you sucked him between your lips. “I wonder what else tastes good.”

“You are something else,” he mumbled, through quiet chuckles. “Just like you to act on impulse.”

You let out a light scoff. “You are so—”

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he softly warned with a smirk.

“I’m not the one you have to worry about finishing.”

You moved down, the covers draped over your head as you kept your eyes on him and resting on the hem of his sweats. Minghao’s breath hitched in his throat, gulping while he felt your nails lightly claw against his bare torso, tugging the waistband off the tent he forged, revealing the lack of underwear and restraint he had left, now sprung against your face.

“Shit,” you said grinning, claiming him by the shaft, thumbing over the precum glistening at the tip. “Even your cock looks pretty.”

A soft pink decorated his cheeks and a hand meekly shielded part of his face. “You staring is how I got myself hurt in the first place.”

“Then I’ll be careful not to hurt you this time—that is, unless you want me to.”

You spat on his cock, a translucent ribbon stretching from your tongue to his length. Your saliva lubing your knuckles, you squeezed his girth in your grip as you stroked and felt him pulse in your hands, growing bigger the tighter you clenched. Minghao’s arms propped himself up and behind him as his chest heaved, blood pumping with every drag of your fingers, shallow breaths slipping out of him as he fisted the sheets beneath him.

You kissed the curve of the head, lips pursed to wrap lightly around him, suckling down his shaft, and feeling him twitch against your mouth when you chuckled. He softly whined, his hand extended toward you to tenderly caress the side of your head and tacitly pleading with you as you teased him. Showing him mercy, you took him with an eager mouth, closing your lips around his cock as you steadied your gaze on him. Moans vibrating around his girth, your tongue tucked on the underside of his shaft, hands wrapped tightly around his base.

“Mmmh like that.” He swallowed, exhaling through his teeth the deeper you took him. His abdomen flexing overtly as you moaned around him, vibrated against his skin, your pink muscle tracing over his veins as you worked your jaw to hug a tighter grip. “God, you’re perfect. Don’t stop, please…” he panted.

He palmed at your hair headily, his motor skills not properly functioning as he sucked in his breath, feeling his presence explore deeper. He leveraged his hips to regain some ounce of control, but the sounds of moisture and squelching burned his ears, and the heart in his chest was running like a marathon. His eyes, fluttering in and out of focus, trained his gaze on you while his stomach tensed, grasping the vision of you getting wide-eyed and bold as you gingerly ate him alive. Burning the image into his retinas, it made him want to explode inside you.

Threading through your hair, he pulled them up and off your shoulders, showing off your pretty features, doing everything in his power not to give his climax an early appearance. “I’ve never seen such a pretty mouth take my cock so well. Then again, I’ve never had a pretty roommate like you, or anyone like you.”

Flustered from the flattery, you sucked him like your life depended on it as you grew hot, making Minghao’s task to regain control strenuous to achieve. You hollowed out your cheeks, leaving no room to breathe, and felt him in your throat as your vision rolled to behind your skull to the point your language deduced to the sounds of gagging. You gripped his hips, nails plunged into his flesh as your drool dribbled down his groin, slobbering over his cock in an erratic, hungry mess.

“Yes, like that. My god,” He praised through ragged breaths, hips jerking gently up into you. He lightly threw his head back, the urge to ram himself down your throat getting exceedingly more tempting, but he suppressed it as he dug his nails into his own palms. “I’m so close to cumming, can I–in your mouth or should I…?”

You hummed a confirmation before you swallowed him whole until you met the base, meeting his groin as he vanished inside you, breathing oxygen not even an afterthought. Images in front of you dulled in color, pictures shapeless and unclear, and you pushed past your boundaries to let him find home in your mouth, deeply intent with him finishing inside you one way or the other.

“F…f…fuck...”

Pleasure rippling through him, Minghao pushed himself up from his position, thrusting weakly as he cradled your head, pouring his thick, ivory load into your mouth, which was insistent on receiving every drop. He filled your cheeks, allowing warmth to coat the inside of your mouth as he tenderly stroked your hair in gratitude. Cupping your cheeks as he let his hips falter, he gently pulled himself out of your mouth, amused at how carefully you were trying to not let any of his cum seep past your lips as you sat between his legs.

His fingers danced under your chin. “Are you gonna swallow?” Minghao tiredly chuckled.

With smiling eyes, you tilted your head, as if asking if you should.

He pushed your hair behind you, softly pressing his lips against your tightly shut lips. “Don’t if you don’t want to.”

An idea occurred to you then, and in an instant you pushed yourself up to board him as your knees took either side of him, looming over him. His hands naturally found your waist as you lifted his chin, eyes staring at you curiously as his hands ran up body and gently clawed down, awaiting your next move. You then thumbed over his bottom lip before dipping between the slit of his mouth and saw it naturally part, taking the digit and settling it between his teeth.

Now confidently, you lowered your head, swirling the contents in your mouth before pushing your thumb deeper, prying the entrance wider, and finding no protest as he sanctioned it. He dug the pads of his digits into your flesh in anticipation. His eyes fluttering, he watched as your mouth withdrew the generous gift he gave to you before you gave it right back to him as it gracefully streamed down on his pulsing, eager tongue. And nothing satisfied you more than hearing him sigh wistfully as it landed.

It sent you shivers how beautiful he looked despite how vulgar the act was. Only Xu Minghao could make tasting his own cum look so ethereal, and it only made you wonder what other things a face this beautiful was willing to do. You swiped whatever fell from the corner of his lips with your thumb, sucking the residue like leftovers before you connected your mouths, sharing and tasting his lewd tang in violent swirls, and pulling away to watch it stretch between your tongues.

“I guess toothbrushes aren’t the only things you like to share,” Minghao teased before pushing you on your back, grinding his resurrecting arousal against your clothed heat and lathering the thick, viscous substance flat between your tongues in your mouths as it dribbled down your chins until there was nothing but slobber. It was a mess, and the most unmannerly you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve never been more turned on.

“My turn.”

With a rough hand, he tugged you by your legs towards him, hearing you let out a yelp, and shoved down your shorts to expose your glistening, mouth-watering, arousal soaked entrance. Be still his heart. He felt himself throb seeing you ruin his bed, but hell if he wasn't going to be sucking those juices out of the sheets until he’d tasted every drop.

He kicked off his sweats, leaving him entirely vulnerable while you witnessed his cock slowly twitch back to life before he laid on his stomach between your arched legs. “If we want to talk about pretty things, your pussy is high up on that list.”

Not waiting for a response, he licked a thick stripe up your inner thigh, flickering over your folds before sucking them in his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to tease your entrance. He felt the flutter of your core before spitting, lathering at the juices, coating at entrance but not peeking to see what was inside. “You’re already so wet, fuck.” 

“Hao…” You whined.

“Mmmh, I love how you sound,” he chuckled, running long strokes up your slit, wedged through you with every swipe, looking arm around your leg to hold you in place as his thumb brushed over your clit. “Are your moans always this delicious? Or are they reserved for when you’re thinking about me?” 

Shaking your head, you were too turned on to answer verbally, while his mouth closed around your clit and sucked, utilizing his fingers to assume their previous position. You clenched your stomach, fisting into the sheets as you spread your legs, feeling them already clam up from the tension as his tongue flicked against your sensitive bud in unison with his fingers twisted up into, and you couldn’t help but writhe underneath him.

“Yes, spread those pretty legs for me,” he encouraged with a haughty smile before burying his face, his moans vibrating up your walls as his tongue massaged your walls and tasted your cock pulsing nectar, sending chills up your spine.

You mewled, and feeling reserved, you held your hands up to your face to shield the tears collecting at your eyes threatening to fall, but Minghao grabbed you by the wrists, roughly pinning them to the bed.

His eyes narrowed back at you before softening almost menacingly, “Don’t cover your pretty face, watch me.”

“But—”

“I want you to watch me fuck your pretty pussy with my mouth. Don’t make me say it twice.” He warned before he got you a quiet nod, earning you a kiss against your inner thigh.

His hand flattened against your inner thighs again, pressing them further away from another and delving his tongue deeper as he rubbed your clit, working your insides until he tasted every inch of you possible. He buried his face, but his eyes were clear, staring at you as he worked his jaw, engorging with his mouth that sent you above and beyond and his eyes that saw you at the result of your undoing. You had no choice but to cling on, freeing yourself from his grasp to have your fingers fly in his hair, navigating him as you took him for a joy ride, his tongue shifting gears as it picked up pace.

“S-shit!” You rolled your hips, threading your fingers through his locks and clamping his head between your thighs as you pushed him deeper.

“Yes, ride my face—fuck, use me, please,” he pleaded in a cracked voice, pouring his heart into his feast until he was practically suffocating, worth it to worship you and bring you to the highest peak of your pleasure.

Your legs trembled as his moans infiltrated your heat, the intense flicks of his tongue titillating you to the brink of ecstasy until he used it to fuck you in time with his fingers thrusting inside, clutching you as you held him in place and grinding against him. “My god, Hao!”

Hips shaking, you bucked into his mouth, and even after your release, he made no effort to stop, lifting you to his mouth as he got on his knees, eating you like a meal he’d never have again until he worked his tongue raw, tasting you and only you as your cum coated his mouth. You squirmed, the suction of his lips on your sensitive core in tandem with his tongue viciously swirling inside you overwhelming you beyond words, unable to kick him off as he held both your knees above his head.

“You’re gonna kill me, Hao,” you cried desperately. “Just put it in me.”

He chuckled before setting you down, meeting your lips halfway as he stroked his fully erect cock, massaging the evening’s concoction against your tastebuds, mingling the contrasting flavors as they battled in your mouth while the knowledge of it all pebbled your skin. Meanwhile, he ran his hands over you beneath your shirt, found your nipples, rolling them against his thumbs as his cock rubbed between your folds, ebbing your moans as they buzzed against his lips. “What if I want to play with you first?” He taunted.

You whined, brushing your lips repeatedly over his. “I want you inside me.”

“You’re cute even when you’re needy,” he gushed.

You clasped your hands over his soft, warm cheeks. “Minghao, please…”

He playfully rolled his eyes, kissing into your palm then down your wrist before his teeth playfully started nibbling at your skin. “Fine, because you asked so nicely. Just to let you know, though, I don’t have a condom on me right now, but I’m clean.”

“Then, we don’t need one.”

He grinned, stroking the back of your head. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Rubbing his tip down your slit, he savored your whimpers as he drew circles against your clit before sliding his length through your folds and stretching your walls, letting you slowly adjust to his presence. Your jaw slightly dropped as you took a sharp inhale, fingers digging into his shoulders and clinging on to him before you felt him sink deeper inside you, pacing his thrusts in a steady rhythm. Your eyes flit to meet his, feeling the back and forth of his hips as they snapped, while you reveled in each collision.

“Yes please…”

Before losing himself in his pleasure, he was determined to remember how you looked getting lost in yours, taking in your features as they distorted under his care. He first found your eyes–lost in a galaxy with an infinite amount of stars out of the way. Then, his eyes started to follow the slope of your cheeks, flushed to the touch against the back of his hand, saliva leaking out of your swollen lips. And your body with the shirt adhered to you by the sweat on your skin, clinging to your form and proving to him time and time again that you were not only the object of his desires, you were something straight out of his dreams.

“You look, taste, and feel good? Where have you been all my life? Really?” He landed a harsh thrust, pressing down on your nipples and smiling manically at how you whimpered in response, clutching you as you shuddered against him. “You like that?”

You nodded, clawing your hand up his back.

“Mmh, me too,” he drew his lips to your ear. “And I like you. A lot. I wouldn’t let someone go on and use my toothbrush for months if I didn’t.” He slowed down his thrusts, cupping your face to meet your eyes. “You like me too, right?”

Feeling your ears burn, you frantically nodded again, mewling after you felt him nip at them, teeth scraping under your earlobe before an open mouth pressed against the side of your neck. The warmth of his breath sweltering against you as you struggled to carry on with the conversation Minghao was determined to have.

“Yeah, you want me to take you on a real date?” He said into the nape of your neck, moaning into your skin as he dragged his hips, rutting into you like an animal.  He barely made out your soft ‘yes’s in your sharp gasps. He gritted his teeth, taking you by the hips, pushing himself flushed against you. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he groaned.

His hips took flight while he separated your mouth in a loud moan, feeling you becoming malleable under his touch and growing weaker as you recoiled against him. He lifted your shirt above your chest and neared your stiff peaks, rolling your bud against the base of his tongue as he pinched the other, moving out of pure instinct. You threw your head back, going mad with sexual gratification. Your body spasmed out of your control, yet you craved more.

“Harder,” You gasped.

He scoffed under his breath in disbelief. “You want even more?”

“Yes…I want you to cum inside me. I want to feel everything that’s yours, Minghao.”

Knees buckling at your titillating request, he gripped your ass in both palms, clutching you against him as he rammed himself up inside you, and you’re forced to hold on. “I’ll do you one better,” he offered, “why don’t I just make you mine?”

“I…Oh, god…” Your brain was becoming mush, only processing the sound, taste, smell, sensation of Minghao’s cock as he plunged himself inside you. It fogged up your thoughts, clouded your judgement, and only formed incoherent gibberish that took place of real vocabulary as they passed through your swollen lips.

“Be mine, hmm?” He asked, pleading. “That way I can be yours.”

Captivated by his words, you nodded, feeling him suck the life out of you as your body felt close to giving out, the hilt of his cock bottoming out inside you. You anchored your legs around him, following his pace before you felt something within reach, just seconds away from ripping a scream out of your throat that would surely ensue a noise complaint from one of your neighbors.

“Hao, I’m going to cum, I’m really close,” you meekly warned.

His hand settled against your thigh, nodding. “I can feel it. You’re shaking so hard. Let me have it, I’ll catch you. Every last bit of you.”

Ecstasy was just a word, but Minghao was everything, and you could breathe in that everything. 

Your bodies crushed against each other, lost in heat as you became one. Breaths blended, bodies embraced, only faltering after you long finished the initial orgasms, coming back for more. You embraced  the sheer carnivorous lust that quelled this several month long push and pull, adhering you by the sweat misted on each other's skin before your mouths tenderly met repeatedly.

Sleep felt futile, while the night felt everlasting. Minghao’s company was more than you could ever ask for, and by the time you did sleep, you were too tired to move. You collapsed against each other, bodies drowning in each other’s releases, sheets and pillows stained by the arousal from the evening’s lack of inhibitions. Minghao should’ve been just as tired, but instead he tended to your tired body, leaving kisses in its wake as he cleaned you off and slept alongside you in your clean bed, letting him worry about laundry in the morning.

With your eyes closed, mind in another world, Minghao was brushing the hair away from your face, softly smiling as you gently stirred and nestled closer to him. In response, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, warmth blooming in his chest as a grin developed on your face.

“I’ll take you on a proper date. I promise,” he said while you slept. “And If I don’t, pull the bad roommate card on me. You can punish me however you like.”

“…ok, I will.”

[aces-and-angels]

baby salem by @lampyri* donate to salem's family follow: @wafans-blog vetted/verified: no. 260 on el-shab-hussein/nabulsi's sheet

did you know in gaza ~50,000 pregnant women are awaiting to give birth + ~5,500 due within the next 30 days? or despite the lack of functioning hospitals, ~180 babies are born every day? (source)

salem was only brought into this world a few weeks ago, and those weeks have been anything but easy. the scarcity of food left salem's mother, manal, malnourished throughout her pregnancy-- which led to salem being born anemic and very frail.

the constant trauma manal faces on a daily basis has made her unable to produce any breast milk. without access to formula, the family has resorted to extreme measures and feeds baby salem a slurry of cooked flour and water- an extremely dangerous diet for any newborn to be on.

a baby's cry is the first thing new mothers are blessed to hear. a sign of life that fills the room. salem doesn't cry. not anymore, at least. he's too weak to do so.

as the genocide continues- despite the iof's flagrant attempts to squash any chance of life- palestine lives.

whether or not it thrives is on us.

*= @lampyri is currently offering to draw headshots in exchange for $7+ donations to vetted/verified campaigns + organizations for palestine/sudan. i've received several works from kay in the past and have loved every single one. if you are interested in getting some art yourself- please do not hesitate to contact them!

[prismkith]

can I request some headcanons of the arcane men reacting to their S/O coming back to them after going missing after a fight and just pure comfort on both sides

Please ans thank you

yess! def was much more comfort received by reader but that's just my own issues and emotions guiding the writing process for this T-T

Arcane men after their S/O disappears after a fight

pairings: jayce, viktor, ekko

genre: fluff, hurt comfort

Jayce: 

Genuinely feels so horrible the second you leave.

He didn't mean to snap. He is just so stressed with the council and Hextech.

Literally unable to function when he thinks you're mad at him, so when he also couldn't find you anywhere for three days he damn near had a breakdown

When you finally came back he would not stop apologizing for WEEKS

Was all over you, giving you gifts and so much affection

Brought you flowers every morning for two weeks after

“Baby, I am so sorry. Truly I feel horrible,- I was stressed and overwhelmed and I snapped when I shouldn't have. I love you so much, I never want to see you walk out like that ever again.”

______________________________________________

Viktor: 

Not the best with his emotions, but he knows when he fucked up

When you disappeared afterward and he didn't find you in your apartment, he worried but he knew to give you the space you needed

Instead of apologizing in person, he left a handwritten letter on your kitchen counter

When you showed up in his lab days later, the letter in your hand, he didn't say anything.

Just opened his arms and let you crawl into his lap, holding you close with one arm wrapped firmly around your waist, the other petting your hair.

“I know, darling. I'm so sorry. Let's not fight again, yes, dear?”

__________________________________________________

Ekko: 

He's stubborn as shit, so when you stormed out of his room and slammed the door, he silently seethed and kicked the chair at his desk before angrily going back to whatever he was working on

Didn't mind that you didn't come around for the next few days, he also needed space to think things over. 

He was surprised at how good you were at avoiding him when you wanted to, though. 

Eventually, the anger wore off and he was left feeling guilty about the fight, and sad you weren't around him anymore

Not the best with words, so he definitely struggled to apologize, but he made up for his struggle to verbally express his feelings by kissing you all over and leaving marks on your neck afterward. 

“Look I, uhm, I'm sorry. I was being shitty, I shouldn't have said those things, and I'm sorry you felt the need to avoid me for so long too.” 

__________________________________________________

A/N: Like I said, almost extremely comfort on their end but that's partly due to me slightly misreading the prompt and also due to my own emotions lol

[muletia]

Omg yes merformers!!! Y/n accidentally discovering a long lost civilisation while shipwrecked and accidentally entered a relationship with Optimus become that was customary in that society. But because of the language barrier Y/n doesn't realise Optimus sees them as his mate and just glad his friendly.

I love it 😈 if i can i like to think there's pool connected to the ocean that was made specifically for the Mers to meet their spouses. And y/n just so happened to set up camp there because it as shelter and fresh water which feeds into Optimus delusion when he meets them there.

Optimus is so excited and happy that his spouse came, he wants to introduce them to the whole pod but he needs to be patience as they seem to still be overwhelmed by his presence. Also because his being a little possessive and wants y/n undivided attention after waiting so long for them. Optimus chirping handing them shells, stones or even fish as gifts to show his love and how resourceful he is UwU. When y/n realise Optimus can catch fish for them, their quick to communicate these with him which he is all to happy to do. Y/n wants fish? I will catch a whole school (of fish) for them

Rachet would be the first one in the pod to learn Optimus "spouse" has arrived. Rachet who knows that society as long since died and is incredibly suspicious of y/n and comes with Optimus too keep an eye of them. And proceed to fall them 🤭

Ohhhh, I love the idea with the pool! Beneath it, there’s an entire system of underwater caves that the Merformers use to swim up to the island. Optimus visits that pool every single day, spending endless, dragging hours there, waiting for his mate. You can imagine the boundless, dizzying joy when one day, he saw many new human objects scattered around the pool… and then the sadness, the disappointment, the pitiful calls after his mate as you run away from him, deeper into the island. Please, don’t go where he can’t follow :((

And yes, he’s going to be very possessive. Even if there’s no one to be jealous of. He whines and demands attention the second you stop petting his helm, and if it were up to him, he’d spend the entire day curled up against your stomach.

Him bringing you fish sounds fine — until he gets the idea to combine it with a mating ritual. One day, he brings you a few small, edible fish in his teeth (and, by the way, he’ll be surprised that you don’t eat them raw on the spot, but he still loves you very much <3), and the next an entire tuna. And he’ll be devastated when you refuse to accept his gift, completely unable to understand the strange human sounds you’re making. But he won’t give up so easily! Maybe you’re unhappy with the size of the gift? So next time, he brings you a great white shark half his size lmao.

Ratchet, though, won’t be so easily fooled. You’re a stranger so you can’t be trusted. Optimus may have gone delusional after all those years of loneliness, but he still has a functioning processor. He’s aggressive toward you and very overprotective of Optimus.

But even the grumpiest mech can’t resist some good old-fashioned chin scratches <3

[pearlcatcher-problems]

spire ᛜ false amphithere ᛜ beast wyrm ᛜ king of the roost

finally had the time to tackle this lad's reference; next up is a custom skin for him to match his headcanon! Lore rambles and general discussion of him / his spot in the lair beneath the cut to keep length down q wq

Spire is a false amphithere, technically a beast wyrm, that has settled and taken over one of the lair outposts. Most of his body is furred with thick boar bristle, but his chestplate is heavier armoured scale. Like most outpost heads, he bears the emblem of the joined clans on his wings and garb, although the over-ornamentation is mostly his magpie-like mate's preference.

The 'koi' on his wings is only ever visible under direct sunlight, where the fish-like scaling on his wings is most iridescent. Otherwise, it's just yet another glossy protective layer over his already armoured hide.

Beast wyrms are usually territorial and brutish, usually lone-wanderers due to conflict with others of their species. They rarely breed, which means their numbers are low, and quite a few of them will integrate themselves in mixed-species lairs that better suits the beast side of their bloodlines. Boars, bears, ox, and bison tend to be the most plentiful beast lines, with other species spotted scarcely. There's very little understanding on how they can continue their bloodlines or how new species are still popping up, and there are theories that they're instead created through corrupted interference. It very well could be both.

Spire's nature is a benefit to him where he is now, having quickly charmed most of the chattering amphitheres over within days of his first landing within their borders and ended up being the prize gem of their matriarch within a season. The amphitheres are chaotic and fickle creatures, and as such, they had strained relations with neighbouring clans until Spire was able to better translate between the groups. While the neighbouring dragon clans simply wanted access to the amphithere grounds for study and ( hopefully ) trade, the amphithere's distrusting nature made it near impossible to conduct anything of the sort safely. With the amphitheres now well-fed due to an influx of ley magics and their society a little more organised, they've been able to progress their roost to the point of joining a proper network. Most who venture into the roost know that they only have one chance, if they overstep they will be tossed either by an amphithere denizen, or Spire himself.

He's unable to fly for long distances, both due to his shorter wingspan compared to most flying-beasts, and the added weight of the boar bristling. He is able to glide, climb, crawl, and charge at quite a good speed though, which means most of his fighting is done on-ground after intentionally disabling his opponents' wings somehow or hindering their ability to fly at all. Like most dragon-folk, he has the ability to breathe 'fire' but it requires quite a lot of fuel to do so and is used sparingly. It takes his body at least twenty seconds to get a devastating flame charged and it's visibly obvious when he's preparing for it as the scaling on his chestplate will flare up, which means it's not something used without thought or desperation. He is powerful, but there are always limits and calls to that power. It's why he agreed to engage in the political alliances for the good of the roost, at least then if they do encounter a threat where he's limited in his abilities, the allied clans have promised to step in.

He has five functioning digits on his forelimbs, but they're limited in dexterity and mostly used as anchoring grapples or simple motion. Given the shape of his wings, it's difficult for him to turn his wrists without moving his entire wing, which means a lot of fine-tune work is often left to a different dragon. His hindlimbs only have two functioning digits, with a pair of curved claws and a pair of dewclaws for gripping behind them.

Although he can technically eat anything, his favourite foods are tubers and fresh melons, but he also enjoys just gnawing on bones. The amphitheres are unable to eat anything outside of raw ley energy and flesh, so any growing produce within their territory tends to be just for him, a few of the locals specifically hiding away small melon farms in corners of the cliffs away from where younglings may try to play with them.

Most of the allied clans call all citizens of the roost 'amphitheres,' which has lead to some confusion as not all dragons in the roost are technically amphitheres. Despite the differences in species though, socially and culturally, all species are amphitheres and equal as long as the same goals are kept. It's an odd place, but it somehow works.

l m a o none of this is organised but mmmm I just love this lad qwq

[dansformations]

Just what they needed.

Tags: #IQloss #gaytostraight #fartkink #burpkink #musktfs

Ian, George, and Zachary were three of the few nerds left at the all-boys university in their county, where there seemed to be more and more dumb jocks and fewer young men with a functional brain.

History class had ended — the one class they genuinely enjoyed — and it was time for the thing they hated most: sports.

As they walked toward the field, they saw a group of athletes gathered, laughing at one of them performing the impressive feat of making fart sounds with his armpit. What surprised them was seeing Will, a former member of the debate club, laughing like an idiot with the group.

“At this rate, we’ll be the only ones from this generation to leave this lumberjack town.”

“No hands!” they heard Will shout before lifting a leg and letting out a loud fart

— PRIRRRRRRRRFT.

The other two friends nodded in disgust.

With a sigh, they pushed through the doors to the sports camp. They had never been athletic or into sports, and everyone knew it. They were easy targets during strength games and hated the sensation of sweat on their bodies, and stench in the locker room after the game was repulsive. They usted everything sports related.

Today, after another humiliating class, just as they were about to head to the locker room in defeat, the gym coach approached them and handed them some bottles with protein shakes.

“This is just what you need. It’ll help boost your perfomance. Drink it at night, and you’ll see; show those idiots what you’re made of!”

Confused but happy about the coach’s unusual kindness — since he usually acted like just another athlete — they headed to the locker room with the protein in hand, feeling slightly more positive as they endured the locker room’s infamous scent: sweat, men’s deodorant, and farts.

That night, the three friends drank their shakes, and just as the coach promised, the next day they woke up bursting with energy. So much energy, in fact, that they felt hyperactive, unable to concentrate even in history class — something they never thought would happen but all they wanted was to run and burn off all that restless energy.

Their ability on the field was undeniably better, from warm-ups to the game itself, where they suddenly seemed to understand football perfectly and even managed to score a few goals. The other jocks glanced at each other, and the three nerds hoped to see looks of surprise on them... but instead, the athletes exchanged knowing glances.

However, the excitement of their success quickly made them forget about it.

“I can’t believe all we needed was a protein shake!” Ian exclaimed.

They headed to the locker room, where the other athletes soon filled the air with their constant lack of deodorant and gas competitions, but this time they were so caught up in their enthusiastic conversation that they barely noticed.

“U guys think the coach will give us more?” George asked.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Zachary replied, leading his friends to the coach’s office.

PRRRFFFFRRRRT

They entered the coach’s office just as he was finishing letting out a loud fart, leg lifted from his seat at his desk.

“Oh, sorry, boys, you caught me at the right time,” he reacted, waving away the stench.

It was the first time they’d been in his ‘office,’ which looked more like a lazy teenager’s room: messy, trash on the floor, and the same locker room smell.

“How can someone like that be a teacher!?” they thought.

“Let me guess, you came for more,” he continued.

“Uh, yeah, we... We really improved today and were wondering if we could get some more...”

Smack!

The coach dropped three protein containers on the table.

“One for each of you. I promise that with one or two shakes a day for 15 days, you won’t even need it anymore, you’ll be masters.”

“That’s it? We don’t owe you anything?” George asked, surprised.

“What are you talking about! No!, can’t a coach care about his students?” he said, pulling them into a sweaty, musky hug.

“Oh, thank you!”

“Really, thanks, Coach!”

“You’re the best!”

The three friends left, thrilled, and as soon as they got home, they almost immediately drank their shakes. The next morning, they thought one more shake to kickstart the day wouldn’t hurt.

Their energy during class was even more hyperactive than the day before — every lesson felt unbearable. They didn’t take notes or pay attention; they just wanted to run across the field and burn off the excess energy.

When sports time came, they practically sprinted to the field and delivered an incredible performance, which they knew was outstanding. Completely sweaty, they walked to the locker room, each feeling an odd discomfort in their stomachs, but they ignored it.

This time, they didn’t even notice the smell, and they didn’t realize they were practically part of it with their sweaty bodies blending into the odor.

“It was amazing,” Ian said. “Zach ran faster than I’ve ever seen, passed me the ball, I sent it to George, and with a header—GO-OOOOURRRP!”

As he tried to shout "goal," that strange feeling in his stomach finally manifested as a loud, forceful burp. Ian blushed, caught off guard.

“Eeeeeh!”

“Nice one!”

A few athletes cheered from a distance.

“Ian! That’s disgu—agh!” George grimaced as a sudden pain struck his stomach, clutching his abdomen.

“You okay?” Zach asked, concerned.

The pain faded, and George sighed in relief, but as his body relaxed... PPPPPPFFFFFFFT!

He unleashed a loud, rumbling fart that echoed through the locker room, earning just as much celebration from the other athletes. The stench soon reached his nose—and his friends’—and embarrassment flooded his face.

A bit curious about the reaction and partly wanting to make George feel less embarrassed, Zach squinted one eye, gave a slight push, and let out a satisfying:

“PRRRFFFFRRRRT!”

"Ahhhhh" he even said at the end.

The fart reverberated throughout the locker room, and the jocks roared with laughter, clapping like fools. The three friends looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh too—maybe it was kind of funny after all...

As the days went by—and the protein shakes too —their concentration in class worsened. Not only did their interest decreased, but their understanding of the lessons also slipped away. Subjects that once seemed simple and addictive became increasingly dull and tedious.

On the other hand, their performance on the field wasn’t the only thing that improved; their passion for it grew too. The game became all they thought about.

Their hygiene, however, took a nosedive. Deodorant became an afterthought, and the once-offensive stink of the men’s locker room no longer bothered them—because now they were part to the odor with constant farts and belches. Without realizing it, they had become part of Will’s group—the group who laughed at armpit farts and, well, just farts in general.

That day, the team decided to host a grand gas competition, and the new members of the team were eager to show their skills.

“ThEeEe cOONSTeEST IS ARR-ABOUT TO START!” announced the team captain, speaking entirely in burps.

One by one, rows of sculpted faces stepped forward to belch loudly with exaggerated expressions, while perfect, rounded butts packed in tight athletic shorts deflated with long, pungent farts.

The three friends now laughed and celebrated those actions, feeling comfortable and happy there. And soon, it was their turn.

Ian stepped forward with a confident grin, pounded his chest, and let out an exaggerated:

“OOOOUAAAAAARRRRRRP!”

His long burp rumbled through the locker room, immediately sparking a wave of celebratory noises. Motivated by the reaction, he pretended to catch the burp with his fist, shove it back into his mouth, and then lifted one leg:

“PRRRFFFFTFFFRRRRRRRFF!”

A fart erupted, filling the room with a rancid taco smell—maybe gone bad tacos.

“Whew! That one was spicy, bro!” George laughed with a dopey chuckle. “My turn!”

The once-intellectual George stepped up confidently, unleashing a long, loud burp, tapping his throat to create varied sounds:

“UU-UR-UUHRP-URP-URR-UARP!”

The divided burp, made up of several smaller belches, had the entire team laughing even harder. Not missing the chance, Zach stood next to him and pretended to “eat” the burps, then immediately lifted his leg and...

“PRRRFT - PRRFT - PRRFT...”

A series of short, rapid-fire farts burst from Zach’s rear in perfect sync with George’s finishing burps—a coordination worth studying... at least in their minds.

“UUUORRRP - PFFFFT - OUURRRP - PRIRRFIFR...”

The three friends laughed, unaware that with each fart and burp, they weren’t just expelling gas and odor, but also shedding the remnants of their personalities. Their dreams of studying away from town and becoming successful artists faded, along with their passion for art. Now, the game was their only focus... Oh, and girls. Zach and George’s homosexuality was sended away if it had never existed. Zach forgot about his long-standing crush on his no-longer-brilliant friend George and now saw him only as a buddy, a bro. George forgot how attracted he had been to all those jocks with perfect bodies—even though he always denied it, he would never admit feeling atracción for guys so gross and dumb, but now he knew thats how a man should be—dirty, gross... and definitely not attracted to other men. All those filthy athletes were nothing more than His friends, His bros, and that was all he wanted them to be.

A month had passed, and protein shakes were a thing of the past—they didn’t need them anymore. They had energy to spare, rarely attending classes, preferring to hang out on the field with the other athletes.

Ian, Zachary, and George had practically become entirely new people. There was no trace of the nerds they used to be—not only had their minds changed and their IQs plummeted, but their bodies had transformed too, now sculpted and athletic from countless hours of playing.

“PRRRFFFFRRRRTFTT!”

Zach let out a massive fart while sitting in a manspreading position with his friends.

“Well?” he asked.

The coach watched from the field as the new athletic, masculine, heterosexual, and dumb friends played a game of guessing what they had eaten based on the smell of their farts.

“Huh... KFC-style chicken,” George said in a much deeper and slower voice, while Ian just fanned the stench, laughing.

“KFC-style chicken!” Zach confirmed, grinning.

The coach smiled as he watched the three friends celebrate that ridiculous achievement, then crossed their names off a list. Proudly, he walked to the principal’s office and handed over the list.

“All done! Who’s next?”

The principal gave him a satisfied smile and handed over the next list.

“Perfect, Coach,” he said. “By the way, the literature teacher has been sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong—apparently worried about the "decrease on the academic performance around here". Maybe you should invite him for some shakes too?”

“Oh HAHA, love to hear that!” the coach replied. “You know, I think we could give some to every one of them; these boys need real men as their superiors, true role models.”

The man grinned.

“I’ll work on the list,” he said, and the coach walked cheerfully out of the office.

On his way out, he spotted a romantic couple—a two guys romantic couple. Without checking if they were on the list or not, he led them with lies straight to the field, knowing the principal would understand that some cases were priorities.

“Boys, give a warm welcome to the new members!” the coach called out, pushing the pair toward the bleachers where Zach, George, and Ian were waiting. The couple tried to resist, saying they never agreed to join the team, but the friends were already ready to welcome the newcomers properly, just as they knew:

The coach smiled and prepared two protein bottles for the new recruits.

It turned out, with the rising abandonment rates in town, the mayor had begun to worry about running out of men for labor—firewood production and farming were the town’s primary sources of income, and they couldn’t afford to lose them.

They realized that the academic ambitions of young men played a role: the more they wanted to succeed academically, the more likely they were to leave town. The more they worked their minds, the less they worked their bodies...

So the county’s all-boys school came up with a solution: the coach’s special formula.

The formula promised to enhance physical performance and interest while shifting aspirations to something simpler, easier... Well, maybe leaving them with no aspirations at all.

“This is just what we need!” the mayor had said.

It was settled—the coach began mass-producing the formula, distributing it to the coaches of the only other two colleges in town. It was working flawlessly—the town seemed to be filling with more dumb jocks and fewer young men with functioning brains. Just what they needed.

_______________________________________

Hey guys, sorry for taking so long to post, but I’ll make it up to you with this story—it's one of my longest ones so far. I promise the next story won’t take as long to arrive, but I want you to know that besides this blog, I also write other things that take higher priority, and I have a pretty demanding job—that’s why it takes me so long.

Without further ado, enjoy! ;)

[honey-on-your-tongue]

FWB

Part one

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Series masterlist

You first met Logan when he showed up at the X mansion, angry and distant and cold. You shrugged it off, every mutant had their own story and you respected that.

You could tell he was afraid to open up at first, particularly around you because you were always so curious about his ability. It fascinated you that he could heal just like that.

You could mend tissue or tear it apart on your body or anyone else's, and it took an extraordinary amount of energy. His body did it automatically and in a matter of seconds.

He didn't appreciate your enthusiasm. But eventually, you two warmed up to one another. And you might've even considered each other friends.

It started because...well...Logan is a complicated man. Very complicated. He's very picky about who he lets get close to him, and even then he remains reserved.

But Jean had been in his heart since day one. You never knew why, he refused to talk about her to anyone.

And then she died. And then she wasn't dead. And then he had to kill her.

He wasn't okay for a long while. He didn't even hit on every pretty woman he saw, as was usual.

And one day he just...snapped.

-

Logan's pent up. Jean's death is a weight on his shoulders he can't shake. And because of that, he can't focus. So he isn't working well, he isn't functioning. So his solution is to jack off, let go of some steam. But it doesn't work. He can't come on his own, no matter how hard he tries. No matter what porn he watches.

Then this one time, this funny thing happened? He was jerking off in his room—trying to, at least—and he heard your voice. You were walking down the hall, talking to someone.

“...so good,” you were saying, probably to a student about how they'd done in an exam.

For some reason, he imagined you on all fours on the bed, back arched, hands holding onto the bed sheets for life as he pounded you from behind.

He could imagine your voice crying out, “So good! So good!”

And suddenly—

His cock twitched, a groan left his lips and before he knew what was happening, he was coming all over himself. Thick spurts of his load spilled onto his hand, dripped down his cock, sticky and warm.

He gasped for breath, unable to understand what had just happened. So quick, so easy. And all because he just imagined you...

He shakes his head. That's wrong. You're his friend. You two work together and he doesn't wanna fuck that up.

So he pushes the thought away and pretends it never happened.

But later that day, when he runs into you in the kitchen, he's embarrassed, ashamed, maybe even a little guilty. You don't seem to notice as you just greet him and go about whatever you were doing.

He can't keep his eyes off you, can't look away. And the next thing he knows, you're bending over to grab a plate from one of the lower kitchen drawers and his cock springs to attention.

He clenches his jaw as he feels himself hardening, his mind already conjuring up images of you bent over his bed, that pretty ass of yours bouncing as he fucks you from behind. Your pussy all wet and spread out for him. Your hands grabbing onto the bed sheets like your life depends on it...

“Lo?” you ask, and he's snapped out of his thoughts.

“Hm?” he grunts, trying as discreetly as he can to take a step towards the counter and hide his growing erection from you.

“I asked if you want anything? I'm gonna go to the store, buy some ice cream for some of the kids.”

A few condoms and lube would work, he thinks to himself. Before remembering you can hear other people's thoughts when it's something they mean to say but don't.

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh. Um. Okay.” You nod, pretty cheeks blushing slightly. “I'll...Yeah. Alright. Any...particular ones?”

He feels like crawling into a hole and dying, but it's too late now. “No,” he replies, shaking his head. “Just...I need some extra large ones, though.”

Your blush deepens and you glance away, clearing your throat. “Right. Okay. I'll...be back soon.”

He nods curtly and watches you walk away. Once you're out of sight, he grabs his head in his hands.

“Fuckin' idiot,” he murmurs, his appetite lost, and he turns around to go back to his room.

The thing is, his cock is still hard and it's getting extremely uncomfortable. And he's leaking precum onto his pants.

He groans as he closes the door, in too much of a hurry as he kicks his pants off, his cock hard, the tip a dark red.

He lays down on his bed, spits on his hand. He fists his cock and jerks it a few times slowly, before closing his eyes and imagining some girl's pussy.

But it doesn't work. Fuck, it doesn't work. He thinks of all the random women he's fucked, all his hookups, and nothing. Absolutely nothing. His cock is still hard, his hand is getting tired.

And then you pop into his head. Cute eyes, soft lips, that gorgeous body.

He knows it's wrong, but he just can't help it. So, he jerks off to the thought of you. Those pretty lips around his cock, your hands holding onto his arms as he fucks you hard. Your face all scrunched up in pleasure...

He doesn't realize he's moaning your name, gasping and groaning like a fucking dog until the door swings open.

“You called? I was just about to leave—”

His eyes snap open, his hand on his cock freezes. He glances at the door and meets your gaze just before your eyes fall on his cock.

“Oh,” you say, voice trembling a little. “'m sorry, I...I thought...I could've sworn you said my name—I mean, I thought you were calling me...”

“I was,” he says stupidly, breathless, too stunned to even cover himself up.

You swallow thickly, eyes darting nervously around the room. When your gaze meets his, he thinks, for what it's worth, I was thinking of you.

Your eyes widen and you blush even more, a strangled, nervous sound leaving your mouth. “I-I gotta go to the store. The kids are waiting for their ice cream. Um...Bye,” you stutter out and leave, shutting the door after yourself.

He lays back on his bed, covering his face with one hand. “Fuck,” he groans. Now he's going to have to talk to you and that can't possibly end well.

---

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Taglist

@nerrivm @rosiahills22 @d3vils-adv0c8 @thychuvaluswife @18lkpeters @daddy333 @e-nonsense @ch3rryblossms @ayamenimthiriel @thesecretlifeofmo @simming4sims @raideaters-blog @1cam8 @angelicbbsblog

[n0n-sen-se]

💌 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫. . .

includes ;; genya, muichiro content ;; pure fluff. a/n ;; stresstember eh? the perfect time to indulge in some adorable escapism! (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

☆☆☆ # genya shinazugawa !

genya regularly receives check-ups at the Butterfly Mansion, thus you tend to bump into him a ton!

this is where things start to take a turn. . . he stops getting so angry and quick to shut you down. . . and instead, he starts watching you train a little more, keeping idle tabs on your schedule, daydreaming of you when he should be focusing on training. . .

then it hits him:

he's got a crush ?!

to this boy love literally feels lethal.

he can't function. at all. he's unable to stand or talk to you for more than a few seconds without becoming flustered and wracked with nerves.

so loving you from afar is the simplest-easiest option.

he stares a ton, and tries hard not to get caught.

daydreams when he shouldn't- and at the worst times- you can only get punched in the face while training so many times before you start to wonder if having a crush is really worth it.

i'm pretty sure anyone could see the reason this quick-tempered boy suddenly turns shy when he's around you.

and he hates admitting it. (what is he supposed to do? he's never been in love before?)

there are times when he's 100% undoubtably sure that you're busy- or far, far away from the scene of the crime. . . he'll sneak into your room (after double checking that the coast is clear, again) he'll leave a few wildflowers next to your nightstand.

just the thought that he's showing romantic affection towards you has his heart palpitating. . . even if it is, technically indirect.

has him paranoid as hell, like somehow even after all his precautions, you'll just know it was him. if you suspect him, or bring it up, he'll vehemently deny everything.

(whenever he leaves flower btw, it'll be up to a week before he works up the courage to bring another bunch, and in between he tries to garner the courage to talk to you. . . without success)

he'd actually get pretty comfortable with this scenario, and eventually saves up enough to produce a small vase to hold all the flowers.

and it feels like the biggest step yet!

its a painfully simple pot, and he feels he could do better, but he's tied a woven red string around the neck to help. . . at least a little.

you know. . . in the future he could tie notes to it. the thought has his ears burning red hot, and he flees the scene just as quickly.

☆☆☆ # muichiro tokito !

honestly, it doesn't fully occur to him that he is a secret admirer at first.

he just one day happens to notice you because you caught his eye. nothing in particular, there was just something. . . bright about your presence.

your eyes? your smile? who could really say. all he knows is that your very interesting to look at when you're around.

even your voice catches his attention, like the sound of bells to his ears. its calming and also so alluring? how are you able to charm him like this?

the couple times you caught him staring he looked away quickly, then he starts wondering why he's afraid of being caught?

that's when the idea of an idea starts to form in his head.

a crush!

honestly, i think he'd smile to himself at the thought. its all very confusing and all very new and exciting!

he'd stare a ton and try to be subtle. . . but then fail at that too. (at this point he's just standing beside a tree rather than behind it?)

muichiro gifts you things that remind him of you: things that are eye-catching and interesting to him.

. . . something that holds his attention as much as you do. . .

mostly things he's found, like the shiniest shells or rocks, broken ornaments or porcelain he's found. the best would probably be a tiny pearl he. . . acquired.

instructs his crow to deliver them to you, which in turn means you get hit in the head with said object- you don't need a more obvious clue to know that his crow hates. your. guts. (don't worry she's just a little jealous)

at first, he completely forgets that he's sent anything to you at all.

until he see's you holding them and it all connects.

silently hopes you to make the connection too. and i don't think he'd mind being caught at all. (its kind of like a fun game he's playing, that subsequently causes the faintest blush to appear across the bridge of his nose)

thinks about you maybe a bit too much, and starts to get excited at the prospect of being in love or a relationship! what would it be like to hold your hand, or even have all of your attention for once? (now he's just smiling up at the clouds like an adorable idiot)

if he writes anything (a note?) its just doodles and drawings he's done that he then hands over to his crow to deliver.

actually very fond of leaving you snacks too. . . or straight up offering to share while (innocently) asking you what ❛all those things in your hands❜ are.

[finniestoncrane]

Hey Finnie! I was curious, do you have any headcanons about the Riddlers being pussydrunk?

Riddler Headcanons hi hello this took me so long to get to i am so sorry anon lmao BUT ANYWAY i am back with headcanons!! i very much could see this happening to the boys (and it annoying them a lot) 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: oral sex, vaginal sex, hate-fucking, mention of anal sex

zero year

kind of loser who gets pussy drunk just glimpsing your cunt

kind of dork who presses two fingers in and sucks on them for ten minutes just for your taste

kind of dweeb who gets fully erect and close to cumming just from the smell of your pussy

kind of asshole who hates being pussy drunk because it makes him seem like he lets himself be controlled by it

which is NOT the alpha male attitude he's trying to cultivate

kind of idiot who might decide that since being pussy drunk isn't the vibe he wants for himself

that maybe anal is the way to go from here on out

gotham

pussy drunk is the only kind he'll tolerate since he doesn't particularly like losing control of himself or his thoughts

(all too easy to either... strangle your crush to death or hallucinate your frienemy/soulmate singing to you otherwise)

anyway he's the kind of guy who could spend 30 minutes eating pussy and then come away actually feeling kind of drunk

complete state of happiness, absolute ecstacy

thinking he's king of the world

not making very much sense

but determined to keep going to chase that feeling

arkham

he's the kind of guy who blames it all on you when he starts forgetting what he's doing

which, to be fair, is correct since it's your pussy he's thinking about

unable to go longer than three minutes without thinking about you and drooling when he's supposed to be working hard

so don't be surprised if you're happily minding your own business hours or even days afterwards

and are swiftly interrupted by him coming in to yell at you

for fifteen uninterrupted minutes mind you

before he asks rather sheepishly if you'd maybe just give him a little bit more of what he's got a taste for

just to see if that helps get it off his mind

telltale

oh he hates the effect you have on him

the notion that a simple, very human act that he's performed with multiple partners before could be so different

could make him completely incapable of stringing together a coherent sentence

could impair his reasoning, his general functions, both mental and physical

that his infatuation with you specifically could have him laying on a bed, drooling, empty mind

it's not going to stop him from going through it all again next time though

he's completely addicted

unburied

he'll pretend that he's not affected at all

pull out of you with the same nonchalant attitude as he would have after brushing his teeth or making a coffee

but buried beneath the sarcasm and the dry exterior...

he's losing it completely, and he secretly likes it

the ability to just let himself be kind of stupefied, with an excellent excuse for it?

no wonder he keeps coming back for more, even if he pretends that it's for your benefit more than his

twojar

absolute fuckin hound for pussy, and will go completely catatonic after sex

needs a good few hours of just holding you while he lays there completely still

just contemplating the world and trying to remember how to walk

keeping at least a finger on your body to keep the room from spinning and to make sure he stays grounded

because he over exerts himself, a lot of frantic, passionate, extremely physical work

and afterwards he needs time to recover from it or he'll do himself an injury

dano

he's literally one good pussy away from being cured

like the minute his dick is wet and you're moaning his name he's a changed man

what plans for revenge? what bombs? what weird traps that he built by himself?

who the fuck even is batman?

you're on the news the next day getting the medal of honour from the city of gotham

you saved lives. your pussy saved lives

your mailbox is filled with little homemade greetings cards afterwards

they're addressed to your pussy, not you

btaa

guess who's in a much better mood for the rest of the week?

as much as she tries to ignore it, miss tuesday can always tell when eddie has been with you

because he is far less grumpy and frustrated for quite a while afterwards

it's nice that you have that kind of power over him

but it does make him insufferably optimistic

which means more work for her when he decides that the grand schemes he thought were terrible and too complicated before he got his dick wet

they're now suddenly completely viable, because he is the greatest man to ever live

young justice

get that man to REHAB he is ADDICTED to pussy and he CANNOT handle it

talk about a lightweight, he's ten seconds inside of you and already unable to form a single though

it's a miracle he knows to keep breathing let alone remembering to thrust

he remembers nothing about anything else in life when he's in the zone, either fucking you or eating you out

basic maths? the ability to speak in sentences? gone

it's a good thing you're moaning his name because he might not remember it otherwise

btas

if he gets a particularly good fuck in then you can guarantee that he is out of commission for at least a couple of days

cheerful, whistling, humming tunes, dancing around his office

and the best part of it is that he knows he's happy, but he can never remember the details of why

because he can get blackout drunk on your cunt

all inhibitions lost

he's muttering words and phrases that he never would otherwise, far too lewd for someone classy and intelligent like him

doing things to you that you'd never expect from him, but definitely welcome the next time he decides to partake

[quartz-kilsviken]

Written in the Runes

Chapter 1

➸ Synopsis: Ekko, your mischievous yet endearing local troublemaker, trails a wealthy academy student from the topside. When you end up with the student’s satchel, you find a notebook filled with intriguing magical research. Unable to resist, you embark on a quest to uncover the secrets of this mysterious scholar.

➸ pairing: jayvik x reader

➸ word count: 3,649

➸ tags: Slow Burn, yearning, eventual smut, not canon compliant

➸ notes: This is going to be an eventual Jayce/Viktor/Reader romance. I want a boyfriend and I want my boyfriend to have a boyfriend. The goal is for this to be an incredibly slow burn. Timeline might differ slightly to the show, and I’m making shit up as I go. I don’t understand LOL lore or magic, nor do I want to. You can also find me on AO3 Quarts_Kilsviken :)

➸ Next Chapter Link- Pt.2

For centuries, art has served as a means to capture moments otherwise lost to time. It functions as a time capsule, preserving not only events but the emotions felt by the artist. Families fleeing war, yet pausing long enough to capture the image of a single flower—the delicate curve of its petals, the vivid color stark against an ash-covered ground. A mother, imparting forgotten magic beneath the soft glow of firelight, a pale blue shimmer in the child’s wide eyes. Runes etched into the dirt, knowing they can be erased in an instant. These fragments call to you, urging you to remember moments you’ve never known. Moments your mother never had the chance to share with you.

As your pencil glides across the thin paper, you wonder if, one day, someone will look back at your captured moments. Will they find meaning in the images of waves crashing against the dock and sense the longing that fills them? You doubt it. The flimsy paper will likely disintegrate into dust within a few years. Still, you continue—perched atop a warehouse roof, waiting for the familiar ship to arrive. These moments are yours, the sunrise painting colors across your pages unseen in your home.

With a long stretch, you stuff your sketchbook into your bag and begin the familiar descent down the side of the building. The cool breeze from the water seeps deeper into your jacket as you approach the ship. After a minute of waiting, the cold settles into your bones and you decide it’s far too frigid to remain outside any longer. Avoiding the eyes of the workers, you slip up the ship's ramp, hurrying down into the cabin.

“Got anything good today, Khal?” you call out, trying to suppress a wince as you hear the loud thump and the string of curses that follow. The yordle emerges from behind a stack of crates, rubbing the top of his head.

“Ah, damn it, I told you to stop coming in here. Couldn’t you wait another five minutes?” Khal mutters, continuing to gather various items from the crates, placing them carefully into a large black bag.

“I’m doing you a favor, really. Now you won’t have to make the trip outside. It’s windy today, Khal—you might get blown away,” you tease. He glares up at you, unamused by your joke as you stand over the bag. Realizing he has what you want, you try to smooth things over with your most innocent smile. “Seriously, you don’t have to thank me for going the extra mile. But if you do—”

“Sorry, kid, no magic stuff today.” He shakes his head, zipping the bag shut with a snap. “They’ve been cracking down at the borders. Rumors of a new drug shipment coming to the docks are making it impossible to get anything in.” Khal sighs, sensing your disappointment, though it’s clear he’s frustrated with the situation as well. “Look, I managed to get some paint from Noxus for you and the kid. I know it’s not what you were hoping for, but—”

You cut him off with a tight hug, leaning down to wrap your arms around the furry little man. Though he doesn’t return it, when you pull away, you spot the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Now get out of here before the enforcers start their rounds.” You grab the bag, tossing it over your shoulder. With a quick farewell, you make your way away from the water.

As you enter the Lanes, the cool breeze morphs into warm, acrid smog. Your feet instinctively know the route home, staying in the shadows so no one catches sight of the bag hanging from your back. You push through the door of the familiar shop, relieved to unload the weight of the bag. Benzo looks up at you from behind the counter as you make your way over. With a grunt, you hoist the bag onto the table,

“You know, Benzo, I should get hazard pay for this. My back’s gonna be shot by the time I’m thirty, I swear. Should start saving for an early retirement,” you joke.

“You’re already robbing me blind with what I pay you, little lady. Anyone give you trouble on your way back?” Benzo peers at you over the rim of his glasses.

“Nah, not today,” you say, hopping over the counter and tossing a few items onto the shelves. “With all these new trade precautions, I bet most people don’t think it’s worth the hassle anymore.” You wrinkle your nose at a rusty pocket watch, trying to decide if it’s even worth trying to sell. Benzo sighs and settles back in his chair, apparently leaving the rest to you. You continue sorting through the shelves, but something’s off. No, scratch that—a lot is off. You stop mid-motion, eyes darting to the now-empty display. “Were we robbed?”

It takes him a second to figure out where you’re looking, and when he does, he chuckles, clearly unbothered. “Nah, some academy kid cleared out the display a couple hours ago. Ekko made a killing off him.” You knew you’d never have enough to buy even one of the items, but it still stings to know they’re gone.

“What would an academy kid even want with magic artifacts?” You bite the words out, too sharp, too bitter. You immediately try to reel it back. “He probably doesn’t even know what he’s got—just hoarding them to show off to his rich friends.”

Benzo shrugs like he’s heard it all before. “You know the drill. We don’t question customers.” He takes a beat, then adds, “But if it helps, the kid seemed pretty knowledgeable.” That makes you feel a little better, though not enough to erase the empty, hollow feeling in your chest. The case sits vacant, mocking you.

Suddenly, the door slams open with a crash, followed by a flash of white hair as the little whirlwind zips across the room. Before you can even react, the kid darts through the back door like he’s on a mission.

You can’t help it—you burst out laughing at the sight of Benzo, stone-faced, staring after the boy. With a quick swipe of your hand, you snatch the paint from the now empty bag, slip through the door, and head after him. Listening carefully, you figure he’s made it down the stairs to his room. You knock softly before poking your head inside. Ekko’s in the process of shoving something under his bed, looking incredibly guilty. When he sees you, his face lights up with a giant smile. The kid’s clever, but not great at hiding things.

“I’ve got something for you, little man,” you say, leaning against the bed. You wave the paint palette in front of his face, teasing him, but snatch it away before he can grab it. “If you want it, you’re gonna have to tell me what’s under there.”

Ekko starts pacing, looking like he’s weighing his options, then stops, squints at you, and says, “You have to promise you won’t tell Benzo.”

You put on a mock-serious face, tapping your chin. “Depends. Did you kidnap someone? ‘Cause I’m not sure I wanna be an accomplice to kidnapping.”

“No,” Ekko says, a little too quickly, his eyes darting nervously under the bed.

“Fraud?”

“No.”

“Murder?”

“No.”

You chuckle and shake your head, finally giving in. “Fine. I won’t tell Benzo.”

Ekko resumes his pacing, looking oddly pleased with himself. “Okay, so this guy comes in earlier today. Buys a bunch of fancy stuff—the kind we usually keep behind glass. He’s got a ton of money, I’m talking a lot.” He pauses, grinning. “Obviously, I charged him double.” He snickers to himself, then continues. “Anyway, I was curious, so I followed him.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow, you still are. You stare at him, rubbing your forehead. “Ekko, really? Benzo said he’s an academy student. You followed him all the way topside?”

Ekko avoids your eyes, and you already know the answer. “Ekko.”

“No one saw me, I swear!” He glances back at the bed, stalling. After a deep breath, he adds, “Okay, so the guy put his bag down to grab his keys, then went inside—probably too distracted with the rest of his stuff to remember he left it behind.”

You gasp. Without thinking, you dive under the bed and, sure enough, pull out a satchel. You immediately regret your earlier promise. “Ekko, what if there’s something valuable in here? If he gets enforcers involved and this is going to be the first place they look.”

Ekko waves a hand dismissively. “Come on. Think about it. He came in for a bunch of illegal stuff. He’s not going to risk it. Plus, he’s loaded. Whatever’s in that bag, he can buy it again.”

You look at the satchel again, hesitating for a moment. Then, curiosity wins out. You pat the floor next to you, and Ekko eagerly plops down beside you. You pop open the bag and dump its contents onto the floor in one smooth motion. Ekko dives into the mess with excitement, while you start inspecting the items. It’s a mess—books, pens, random junk. Exactly what you’d expect from an academy student.

Ekko picks up a wallet and flips through it before remembering that he already cleaned out the guy’s coin. Losing interest, he starts to toss it aside, but you snatch it up before he can. It’s plain, brown leather with neat stitching—nothing special, but maybe it’s worth a little something. As you dig inside, your fingers catch on a student ID card. It’s scratched up but still in decent condition. You flip it over, and a pair of big eyes stare back at you. The blurry picture shows a young man, maybe in his early twenties, with a wide, gap-toothed grin. Handsome, you think, not at all who I imagined. You slide the card back into place and shove the wallet into your jacket pocket.

Ekko’s rummaging through the rest of the bag, clearly unimpressed by the contents. You laugh at the face he’s making and, still grinning, grab the paint you’d dropped earlier. “Khal said these are from Noxus. Definitely worth a lot. So, don’t let Mylo use them to paint middle fingers on Jericho’s stall.”

Ekko snickers, jumping up to stow the paint away, tossing the pens he grabbed from the bag into a drawer with a careless flick. He starts cramming the rest of the bag’s contents back in, and you look over at him, an eyebrow raised. “Do you mind if I, uh, borrow your stolen bag?”

Without missing a beat, Ekko flashes you a sly grin. “Sure, but just so you know, that officially makes you an accomplice now.”

You can’t help but laugh as you leave Ekko’s room and wander down the hall. By the time you collapse on your bed, the exhaustion hits you like a wave. Dock runs only happen once a month, but they require staying up all night—leaving right after sunset and staying until the ship docks at sunrise. It used to be so much easier—endless nights that never seemed to take a toll. But now, as your joints creak and protest, you feel like a 23-year-old who’s already past their prime. You glance down at the satchel, chewing the inside of your cheek. You’ve already gone through it—hell, you dumped its contents all over Ekko’s floor. So why the sudden wave of guilt?

You decide to be more careful this time, taking things out slowly. The first item is a crumpled piece of paper, which turns out to be a grocery list. You set it aside with a sigh and reach for the next thing: a hardcover book, dark blue canvas, its corners fraying with age. The moment you touch it, you can tell it’s old—the scent of it, the brown tint of the pages. The text is foreign, some language you can’t quite place. Maybe it’s from overseas? Curiosity gnaws at you, but you set the book aside and move to the next.

This one catches your attention immediately. The cover’s worn, but it’s the script inside that makes your heart beat a little faster. You flip through the pages and realize it’s a grimoire. Runes cover every inch, some familiar, others completely alien. How did he get his hands on this? Sure, he’s rich, but something so detailed, so rare? There’s no way it would’ve come from Piltover. The heat of anger burns through you, a deep, familiar ache that’s almost like grief. He’s carrying around a book that details the same magic your family nearly died for. But is it really just anger? No, it’s something else. The pages seem to hum, drawing you in, much like your mother’s paintings once did—pulling you toward something. Your past? No… not this time. It’s something else entirely.

Finally, you pull out the last book from the satchel. It feels heavier, like it’s carrying something more than just weight. You run your fingers over the hammer etched into the cover, studying its details before opening it. Inside, it’s filled with messy notes and diagrams, all jumbled but with a clear purpose. This is it—this is what he’s been working on. He’s trying to harness magic.

Though your body is screaming for rest, you can’t bring yourself to put the book down. When you finally glance at the clock, it’s already 5 AM, but you’re still lost in the pages. You’re hooked—caught in the madness of it all. It’s brilliant. Insane. Revolutionary. And completely, utterly terrifying. His scrawl is all over every page, his signature tucked into the corner of each one. Even though this is clearly just one of many notebooks—a fraction of his larger body of work—it all makes perfect sense. Harnessing arcane energy through crystals. Capturing raw, chaotic magic and transforming it into a usable, practical source.

It’s clear he knows what he’s doing, but there’s something missing in his understanding of the arcane itself. His notes drip with frustration, especially where he’s tried to decode the runes—almost every page filled with scribbles, crossed-out lines, and half-baked theories. It’s as if he’s so close, yet there’s a final piece that eludes him.

And then it hits you. You might be that missing piece.

You’re no scholar, and you certainly aren’t a genius, but you know more than most when it comes to the arcane. You’ve lived it, felt it, and you can see the gaps in his research—things that could be the key to unlocking it all. Maybe you could help him. You feel the weight of the possibility, the urgency of his discovery. It’s world-changing. The visions he’s drawn out on each page show the immense potential for how this technology could revolutionize not just Piltover, but the Undercity, too. His research could bridge the gap between the two worlds, completely reshaping everything in its wake.

But as the minutes slip by and your eyelids grow heavier, you realize your body can no longer keep up with your racing thoughts. The words on the page blur into one long stream, and before you know it, your head tilts to the side. Your hand slips from the notebook as sleep finally pulls you under, the weight of your thoughts fading into the quiet dark.

You’re stirred awake by a quiet knock on your door. “You dead in there?” Benzo’s voice filters through, soft but insistent. As your mind clears, you realize your bed is strewn with the contents of the stolen satchel. Panic flickers for a moment before you shove the books back into the bag, tossing it under the bed just as he softly cracks the door open. Benzo stands in the doorway, glancing over you with a raised brow.

“You look like death,” he says with a tired chuckle. “How long you been sleeping?”

“Uh...” You glance at the clock. It’s already 6 PM. You wince. “About thirteen hours.”

He rubs his temples, sighing. “Get cleaned up, then come watch the shop for a while. I’ve gotta head out with Vander.” The fatigue is clear in his face, the lines around his eyes deepening.

“What happened? Is he okay?” You start picking out clothes, your movements automatic as the weight of the situation begins to settle in.

He exhales sharply, dropping down onto your bed with a heavy sigh. “Vander’s fine. But the kids... well, they’ve stirred up some serious trouble. You missed all the fun. Yesterday there was an explosion and a chase topside. And today? Enforcers barging in here looking for four kids. They tried to rob a rich academy topsider, but things went sideways. I heard the whole side of the building got blasted off, and now the Enforcers are crawling all over the Undercity.”

Your stomach drops. “Was anyone hurt?”

He glances at you, his expression softening. “No, thank the gods. But the building—turns out it was the Kirammans’ place. What was in there? I don’t even want to think about it.” His gaze sharpens. “The kids will be fine. Vander and I will handle it. But they need to lay low for a while. Knowing them, though, that’ll be a battle.”

You nod quietly, though the weight in your chest only grows heavier as he exits your room. After a quick shower, you find yourself behind the shop counter, brown cloak draped loosely around you, trying to mask the weight on your shoulder. The place is eerily still, save for the hum of your own racing thoughts. Your eyes stay fixed on the door as you wait, the uneasy silence pressing in.

When the door finally opens, it’s Ekko who walks in, looking surprised to see you behind the counter instead of Benzo. His usual brash energy is subdued, and he leans against the counter, avoiding your eyes.

“Bet you already heard what happened,” he mutters, picking at some invisible spot on the counter. “Vander’s really upset with us.”

The weight of his words hits harder than you expect. For all the bravado Ekko tries to show, you know how deeply he feels. You reach over, ruffling his hair, offering what little comfort you can. “Hey, little man, it’s gonna be okay. Everyone makes mistakes. I get why you did it. Vander and Benzo, they’ve made their own share of screw-ups, so they have plenty of experience fixing them.” Ekko gives a small, grateful smile at that. “Go get some sleep, alright? Things’ll cool down by tomorrow.”

Just as you finish speaking, the bell rings, and Benzo reappears, starting to lower the shutters. Before he locks the door, you move to slip out. “Get some rest, you two. I’m heading out for the night.”

Ekko gives you a tired wave as he heads for the back. Benzo, however, doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“You know,” he says, arms crossed, voice low, “I can’t stop you, but I’m still gonna tell you—it’s a bad idea. Enforcers are everywhere. There’s fighting on every corner.”

You both hold eye contact for a long beat, but he lets out a resigned sigh. “No arguing with you, is there? Go on, get out of here.” He opens the door for you, and you catch him off guard with a quick hug before slipping out into the night. His grumble follows you as the door clicks shut behind you.

The streets are a war zone. Enforcers litter every corner, and the air is thick with tension. You move through the Undercity carefully, staying in the shadows as much as you can, until you reach Piltover. There, it’s quieter, and for a moment, you feel a strange kind of relief.

There’s no sign of enforcers from atop the large buildings, but as you crouch to catch your breath, the sight in front of you makes your chest tighten. From this angle, calling it an explosion doesn’t even come close. The place looks like it’s been torn apart. A sinking feeling settles in your gut.

It makes sense the building looks abandoned now—who would stick around in a wreck like this? But then you realize it: you came here without a plan. What was your angle? Strut in, say you’ve got stolen research, and hope for the best? Ridiculous. Still, you’ve come this far. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get a bit closer.

With a deep breath, you sprint across the gap to the next rooftop, landing lightly and pausing to steady yourself. And there they are. Two figures, barely visible in the wreckage, illuminated only by the faint glow of a lamp. One is scribbling on a chalkboard, broad shoulders following the movements of his writing. The other holding a book in one hand and gripping a cane in the other, standing a step behind him. You squint, trying to make out the messy writing, but the shadows blur everything.

Just then, they turn—though you know they can’t possibly see you. Still, a chill runs down your spine, and you freeze, watching them move through a door, disappearing deeper into the building.

That’s when it hits you—the pull. The whispers, soft in the breeze. The tug in your chest. Every moment, every choice, has led to this. The memories flood back: your mother’s hands glowing with magic, her soft voice teaching you. Benzo, taking your hand as he led you from the ruins of your home, offering you a new place where you could rebuild, and with it, the hope that you could be more.

And now you’re here.

You feel the wind, the pull drawing you forward. Without thinking, you leap.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Loud & Muted

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / CHRONIC ILLNESS MASTERLIST

Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2,190ish

Request: Hey, I'm not sure if your requests are still on but I thought I give it a shot. First of all I love your work especially your chronical illness fics. ☺️ I suffer from depression and anxiety. I don't have the best time right now, so I would love a One-Shot with Steve Rogers where the reader has depression and doesn't really want to share it with anyone. Reader and Steve have been dating for a while but not long enough that he had figured it out. Not that she doesn't trust him but she just thinks it's best to keep it for herself. One day after a difficult mission it's just all to much and Steve finds her crying on their bathroom floor. They talk about it and he comforts her.  I hope you get what I mean because English isn't my first language. I totally understand if you don't have time to write it. 🫶

Notes: I hope this makes sense.

You were fine until the incident. You never believed you had anxiety or depression until the mission had gone wrong. You were good at what you do: tactical strategies, tech ops, and infiltration expert. That was until you saw your unit wiped out when you were a military intelligence operative. You immediately blamed yourself for a tactical call, even though no one else blamed you. 

You were immediately discharged and diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety, and depression. You took time off for therapy and to rebuild yourself, but some scars never fully heal.

Nick Fury personally recruited you for the Avengers. You were hesitant at first, but the man was insistent. You gave in, believing it could be a second chance. But you also felt like you were holding your breath for the next mistake every day.

You didn’t feel like you fully belonged with the world’s lightest hero’s. So you did what you could to prove that you belonged. You obsessively over-prepared before missions: constantly training, studying, and preparing all that you could. Your depression allowed you to function at a high level until missions were over and then you’d slink back into your room and not leave for a day or two.

You were two months into your time with the team when Steve asked you out. You, of course, said yes. Steve was Captain America but he was also kind and caring. The two of you quickly became a couple after that. You loved Steve and knew he cared, but you still kept your anxiety and depression away from him as best as you could (which was extremely hard). You believed that telling Steve the truth would scare him off and you couldn’t handle that.

Steve and you have been together for a little more than three months. The team had just gotten off a rough mission and had their post-mission debrief. You kept reliving every decision you made in your mind picking it apart. Instead of heading to your room, you headed to your office to look over the mission reports. Steve had cleaned up and went searching for you after he was unable to find you in your room. When he stumbled upon you in your office, it was dark, the only light coming from the multiple screens you had surrounding you. He sighed as he leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You know that it’s past midnight, right?” He said softly.

You didn’t even look up as you responded, “Well, time flies when you’re rewriting a disaster.”

“It wasn’t a disaster. You got us out in one piece. We could have lost Clint in there without you.”

You scoffed. “I barely got you out. I misread the timing on the drones. We got lucky.” You tapped a few keys on the keyboard hard as you grew more frustrated.

“Luck didn’t override the security system. You did.” You huffed, opting to remain silent. Steve pushed off the doorway and walked closer, eyes focused on you. “You’ve been… quiet lately. Even for you.”

“I’m fine. It’s late. I’m tired.”

“We’re all tired, Y/N. But this… This is different. You look like you haven’t slept in more than a few days.”

You finally looked at him. Your eyes were shot, clearly tired, and your skin seemed to be shades lighter than usual.

“I said I’m fine, Steve,” you told him.

“Say it like you mean it.”

Your jaw tightened as you focused back on your screens. Steve hated this. Even though you two were dating, he felt like he didn’t fully know you. Like you were hiding your true self under lock and key.

“Y/N,” he tried again, “if something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“You’re tired, you don’t look well. You’ve been pulling away from me more than usual.”

“I’m just tired.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You grabbed your tablet and stood up. “I have to finish the reports.”

“They can wait. You can’t.”

You ignored him, brushing past him to step out of your office. You paused before slowly looking back at Steve. “You ever have days where your head feels… loud?”

Steve nodded, taking in your words. “All the time.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out quietly. “I wish mine would shut up.” Then you disappeared down the hall, leaving Steve standing there, more concerned than ever.

~~~

The team immediately had another mission to prep for the next day. You threw yourself into gathering intel. You did that while avoiding Steve and skipping meals. Steve hated that you seemed to be slipping from his fingers. Finally, he found you alone in the hangar. You were sitting on a large supply crate, seemingly staring at nothing.

“You’re not invisible, Y/N,” Steve’s captain voice came out.

You didn’t bother looking at him, his words barely registering in your brain. “Didn’t say I was.”

“You’re acting like it. Dodging me. Ducking out of meals. Something is going on and you are not telling me.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t owe you an emotional status report, Captain.”

“I’m not just your Captain anymore, Y/N. I’m you’re boyfriend… You’re my girlfriend. I care about you and am worried about you. Something is happening in that head of yours and I don’t know how to help you because you won’t let me in.”

You hop off the crate and cross your arms across your chest in defense. “I have told you, I’m fine.”

“Stop lying! You have bags under your eyes. Your hands shake when you don’t think anyone is looking. You haven’t eaten. Do not stand here and act like I can’t see you breaking right in front of me.”

“Maybe you should not care as much.”

“Y/N… you don’t mean that.”

“Maybe I do.” You turned on your heel and began walking away.

“You’re not alone, Y/N.”

Steve watched as you walked out the hangar doors without a response. He stood there, heart breaking and jaw tight. You were pushing him away faster than he could reach you and he didn’t know how to help you.

~~~

The briefing room seemed crowded to you as the team discussed the upcoming mission. You were seated at the far end of the table, barely contributing. Your gaze was distant and you hadn’t touched the tablet in front of you. Your mind was spiraling and you just wanted to crawl back to your room and stay there.

“Y/N, what do you think about the south entrance?” Clint asked. “You usually spot the blind angle faster than anyone.”

You didn’t respond. Everyone stared at you, concerned.

“Y/N?” Natasha tried.

“It’s fine,” you responded, your voice like a robot.

“That didn’t sound like you’ve actually looked at it,” Tony commented.

“I said it’s fine. So it’s fine.”

The tension in the room grew as your eyes finally snapped towards the other team members. Suddenly, you realized how sharp you sounded. You pushed back your chair and stood up.

“I’m done here,” you stated.

“We’re not finished,” Steve said.

“Then finish without me.” Then you left the room. The silence that followed is heavy.

“She’s spiraling,” commented Natasha.

“She’s drowning,” Tony clarified. 

“I know,” Steve sighed.

“Then do something. You’re her boyfriend.”

“I’m trying. But she’s blocking me left and right.” Steve leaned back on the table, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m losing her and I don’t know how to safe her.”

“It’s not about saving her, Steve,” Clint retorted. “It’s about helping her.”

“If she’s acting like this during the next mission, she could get someone killed,” Tony said.

“And if she burns out completely, we could lose her for good,” Natasha added.

“I know,” Steve breathed out. “And I’m absolutely terrified.”

~~~

You should have pulled yourself from the mission. You weren’t feeling all the way there when you woke up. But you refused to show weakness.

“Are you going to be okay today?” Steve asked quietly as you readied your gear on the quinjet.

“I’m fine,” you replied, not bothering to look at him.

“Y/N… are you sure?”

“Do you not trust me?”

“I would trust you more if your hands weren’t trembling.” Your eyes fell to your trembling hands. You quickly clenched them into fists and stuffed them into your pockets. “Please, sweetheart. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Y/N—“

“Drop it, Steve.” 

~~~

The whole mission was tense. You were helping grab the intel and get out. The Hydra base was booby-trapped, unstable, and crawling with agents. You were running point on surveillance and route planning, as always.

“Movement on upper level,” Clint stated over the comms. “Heat sigs—maybe six. Armed.”

“Y/N, what’s our next move?” Steve asked.

You didn’t respond, keeping your eyes on your tablet. Your vision was blurring slightly and your breath as caught in your throat. You knew the path for them to take, but you couldn’t trust yourself to say it.

“Y/N?” Tony tried.

Another beat of silence before you replied. “West hallway,” your voice was quiet and shaky. “Secondary stairwell. Should be clear.”

“Should be?”

“Tony,” Steve warned.

“No. We’re deep in hostile territory and she’s hesitating on the one thing she never hesitates on. I’m not staking all our necks on a guess.”

“It’s— It’s not a guess,” you stammered.

“Then say it like it’s not.” 

Your hands tightened around your tablet as you struggled to keep your knees from buckling. You were failing your teammates. The one thing you never wanted to do. You were failing everyone. Tony, Steve, and Natasha were all with you, staring at you. You could feel their eyes.

“We don’t have time for this,” Natasha said.

Tony pulled Steve to the side. “She’s not clear,” he whispered harshly. “You want to wait for her to freeze mid-exit? Or do we move on my call?”

Steve looked over at you, torn and heartbroken. “I don’t know.”

“Quickly, Captain.”

“Just take Tony’s route,” you spoke up. “It’s probably safer anyway.”

“No, I trust you,” Steve immediately said.

“Then you’re an idiot.”

You shut off your tablet and pushed it into Tony’s chest. He was quick to get in front of the group, taking the lead while Natasha and Steve walked behind you. Natasha kept her focus on helping Tony get everyone out safely while Steve’s focus was on you. You were hugging yourself, like it was the thing holding you together.

~~~

Everyone was relieved that nothing when wrong on the mission. When the quinjet landed, they watched you walk out of the hangar in tense silence.

“We can’t keep allowing this,” Tony said.

“Tony—“

“No, Steve! Y/N is not okay! She needs to be pulled from missions for her own sake and ours before something worse happens.”

“Tony’s right, Steve,” Natasha admitted. “She needs to get things figured out.”

“Fine,” Steve sighed. “But let me do it my way.”

~~~

Everything was loud and muted at the same time. You were still in your gear as you turned on the shower until it was scalding hot and sat underneath it. You pulled your knees to your chest and stared ahead, not really seeing anything. Your eyes burned and your breathing became shallow.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice called through the bathroom door. “Can I come in?” You didn’t answer, mainly because you didn’t hear him. “Y/N?” He could hear the shower running but no movement. “I’m coming in.”

Steve pushed the door open slowly. Steam from the hot water curled around him as he stepped in. His eyes searched for you until he saw you until the water, still fully clothed, in the glass shower.

“Shit,” he muttered. He quickly turned off the water and knelt in front of you. Slowly, his hands rested on your legs, causing you to flinch. “Hey. It’s just me. I’ve got you.”

“Steve?” You rasped, your eyes staring at him but not seeing more than a blurry form.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m here.”

“It’s all my fault… I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about? We all got out safe. The mission was a success.”

“I failed… I froze… I failed…”

“No, you didn’t, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, pulling away from his touch. “I— I can’t… I can’t… Please don’t kick me off the team… I can do better. I promise I’ll do better. Please, please, please.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he gently cupped your face, wiping the water and tears from it. “Stop that. You’re not going to be kicked off. But… you do need to be benched. Until we get this figured out.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“For what, doll?”

“I… For pretending that I’m okay… I haven’t been okay for a long time.” A sob suddenly ripped through you and Steve quickly pulled you into his lap.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Please don’t leave.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” he kissed your head. “You’re allowed to fall apart. I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t know how to do this…”

“That’s okay. We can figure it out together. I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’ll do this together.”

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 156 }

house of gold.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ i will make you queen of everything you see… }

the moment you woke up and received a text from your boyfriend, telling you to have a nice day off while reminding you of your dinner reservation tonight, you knew that you were going to have the best day ever.

with jinwoo’s most trusted shadow soldiers keeping you company, you begin to tidy up the house and do some chores.

first, you began your day by washing all of the dirty dishes that had piled up throughout the week. with your music blasting from your phone’s speaker, you sang along to your favorite song before drying each dish and putting them back within your pantry.

next, you swept the floors and wiped down all the tables and countertops, feeling accomplished when each stain and layer of dust had been removed, leaving behind a shiny sheen against each polished surface.

you continue your day while finishing up other chores, saving laundry for last since you figured it was the one thing that you could do to pass the time quickly. your eyes trail up to the clock to see that it was only 5pm, with your reservation jinwoo made still being a couple of hours away.

letting out a sigh, you go into your shared room and begin collecting all the dirty clothes scattered throughout the room with your basket. it wasn’t too bad, just a few of jinwoo’s shirts and your old pajama set. as you trail your eyes over to the desk, you saw his large trench coat hanging across the chair.

brushing back your hair, you set the basket filled with dirty clothes on the ground before picking up jinwoo’s coat. as you folded the layers of fabric, you became aware of something hidden within the pockets. with a tilt of your head, you unravel the fabric and search through the pockets for a few seconds-

only for your eyes to go wide upon feeling the sensation of velvet against your fingertips.

your whole body was trembling when you manage to pull a tiny, velvet box from the confines of his coat. as you place the precious box against the palm of your hand, you could not stop trembling as it takes you a few tries to pry open the box.

yet the moment you open it, you let out an audible gasp-

for settled within the velvet box was a gorgeously crafted diamond ring-

this was no doubt an engagement ring.

you lost all your senses then, as if hypnotized by the diamonds and the way it collected rainbows each time the light hit it. while being very much in awe of the ring, you lost track of time, completely unaware of someone coming home, taking quick strides to your room before appearing-

“sarang-“

your eyes were still wide when they met with jinwoo’s panicked gaze. and if you were able to function, then you would have teased jinwoo relentlessly over how messy his hair was (probably because of the sheer amount of times he had run his fingers through them.)

so when he sees you already holding the engagement ring in your hand, jinwoo immediately crumbles on the spot. like his knees had suddenly gave way to his own weight, your beloved boyfriend was seen on his knees, letting out what sounded like a mix between a sob and laughter.

“hahhh, i’m such an idiot! of course i left the ring in my other coat!”

your heart was pounding, still unable to process everything that was going on. you and jinwoo simply stayed in your respective positions, with your beloved still having his head bowed down to you.

after a few more beats, you were the first to snap out of your reverie. with the velvet box still open, you gingerly hold it to your chest before crawling closer to him. “jinwoo…?” you place a hand on top of his, making your boyfriend meet your gaze, his face completely and utterly flushed red in response.

“yes… honey?”

swallowing thickly, you place the box with the ring settled from within atop your hand, showing it to jinwoo, “is this what i think it is?”

your voice was barely above a whisper, since you felt as though you were living in a dream, not quite believing that this was even real. it takes several seconds for jinwoo to process your question before giving you a nod.

“yes, it’s exactly what you think it is.”

you hear jinwoo let out one more frustrated sigh before adjusting himself, now settled on one knee for you as he carefully takes the box from the palm of your hand.

“funnily enough, i had this all planned out. the reservation to a high class restaurant was made months in advance, right after i purchased this ring in hopes of making you mine, forever.”

as the tears of joy began streaming down your face, you allow jinwoo to take a hold of your left hand, feeling his lips press a kiss against the back of it before taking out the beautiful ring.

your breath hitches when jinwoo places the ring on your left ring finger, grey eyes turning so much softer when he sees that it was the perfect fit. with his eyes closed, he allows his lips to linger against your ring finger before speaking passionately once more.

“you are the woman that has always had my heart- who had always been by my side, even when i was at my weakest. you have supported me endlessly through your kindness alone… and i finally figured it was about time i returned the favor.”

jinwoo opens his eyes while taking a hold of your hand, bringing you into his lap while chuckling at your crying face. he says your name sweetly before kissing away your tears. “i love you, and nothing would make me happier than to claim you as my wife.”

you were actively sobbing now, clinging to him while admitting, “oh jinwoo… n-nothing would make me happier than to have you as my husband…!”

a teasing grin spreads across his handsome features. “shall i take this as you accepting my proposal?”

giggling through your tears, you gently lunge at him, wrapping both arms around his neck before pressing your lips against his in a searing kiss. despite how you and jinwoo were both locked in a kiss, neither one of you could deepen it since you were both smiling so much.

feeling too filled with happiness, you end up pulling away from the kiss first, letting out content purrs of his name as you rested your head against his broad chest. with your left hand extended outwards, you and your now fiancé kept admiring the glittering ring, all while whispering your promises of forever together.

a.n. - i finished re-reading my recently purchased volumes of solo leveling and just had to write a short and sweet fic for him! 😭 i love jinwoo soooo much, please, why isn’t he real??

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[rift-in-worlds]

Ratio knew what it was like to not be recognized for your efforts, in some sense.

For him, almost everyone in the universe had heard of his name and revered him for his genius intellect, but never the one he was most desperate for, the gaze of THEM. Of Nous. Almost all other pairs of eyes meant nothing to him, and as time passed he slowly gave up on the idea of being recognized by the Aeons.

A while after, he discovered the familiar feeling of desperation taking over his mind once again, to be recognized, to have the undivided attention… of you.

He met you through Aventurine, a chance encounter he was blessed with to now have you as an acquaintance, a friend of sorts. Your warm gaze meant far more to him than any Aeon’s ever would, for the way your eyes shone as you told him about your day and discussed the most menial details could invoke a spark in him even his sophisticated assortment of language skills couldn't describe in a century.

At this point, he couldn't even fathom how he functioned before meeting you.

He would listen to you for hours if he could, your voice so sweet in his ears compared to the idiots he always dealt with prior. Oftentimes Ratio finds himself playing his conversations with you in his head on repeat, to a worrying degree as his eyes traced over the same line on his complex book for the fourth time, unable to focus. With a groan, he set down his book on the soft sheets next to him, wishing you were there instead to greet him.

A glint of annoyance and something darker permeated his scarlet gaze as he recalled how you talked about Aventurine with such excitement a few hours before. Ratio’s eye twitched slightly in the silence of his room at midnight, only a small lamp for his reading that he couldn't even focus on.

He was pissed, quite frankly, and despite all of his 'unending' knowledge, he didn't know why.

Sure, you talked about Aventurine and meeting up with him all the time, so why only recently was it frustrating him? Perhaps it was the way you two seemed too close lately, even a brush of hands together would have him itching to rip Aventurine's arms away from your body and step in between you two as you walk. The fact that he and you met through Aventurine did tinge him with a little guilt when feeling like this, but he couldn't help it, he was hopeless when it came to you.

He didn't like to acknowledge the depths of his desperation, how you were right out of his grasp yet so close, and how he would do anything for you. He liked to deny this while in his own mind, shaking it off and labeling it something of a fool’s prospect.

Ratio knew this was wrong, the idea of you in his mind taking over, the thoughts of how he wanted to almost gouge out the eyes of any passerby who spared a glance at you for a second too long, how he wanted you to be his, for him to be able to hold you at the end of the night and listen to your soft whimpers as you called his name for hours, your honeyed voice hoarse in his ears as you begged for him-

he wasn't too proud of those last thoughts.

It was like withdrawal, he needed you in order to stay sane, or his usually composed mind went haywire. He can't pinpoint when this started, all he knows is that he might go insane if he doesn't have you.

Though not an Aeon by power or label, he still considered you to be a deity in his eyes, so you must be treated as such, and he found you way too forgiving and merciful to others, fearing they would take advantage of you. At this array of thoughts, he couldn't help but begin fashioning a plan in his head as to get you further away from Aventurine, which shouldn't be that hard.

All it takes is a little manipulation, a bit of miscommunication, you’ll vent all your little worries straight to him, and he'll be by your side to get you back on track.

To make you dependent on him, to make you need him as if he was the air you breathed. It would only be fair, seeing as you did this to him. You made him like this, and now he felt like he was suffocating.

This was the only way to protect you, the only way no one else would taint you.

He’ll see to it that your gaze remains on him and no one else, as nobody else deserves to be looked at by you, even if it means he must isolate you from all others. To get you to play into the palm of his hand…

Shouldn't be too challenging, he presumes.

[3amfanfiction]

Meeting the Price Family

Part 2 to this

Hurt/No Comfort, MDNI, Dead dove fic. Please check the trigger warnings.

You and Simon have a surprise to show the Price family. They really have a picture perfect life.

cw: kidnapping, babynapping, implied torture, breast binding, stockholm syndrome, this is hurt no comfort folks, just like the last one. The brain goblins keep beating the war drums and the thoughts keep coming

~~~~

You thought everything was over when you realized you were pregnant. You're not sure why it was a shock; Simon didn't bother with condoms and the only time he pulled out is when he wanted to degrade you in some other way. So you were surprised when nothing really changed, other than for the better.

You're cautious as things began to shift. Simon was in no way nice but he was being more careful with you—physically at least. The day he dropped a bottle of prenatal vitamins in front of you without comment you wondered if you were hallucinating. Maybe he'd slammed your head into the headboard last night and this was all some sort of brain swelling fever dream.

When you commented on them he only grunted—not deigning to provide more information than that, so you took the pills. It seemed silly not to.

As the months progressed you noticed yourself feeling uncomfortably optimistic. The good moments were a bit more pleasant while the bad ones were easily brushed off—forgotten quickly. When you recognized the feelings you tried to beat them back, knowing hope would only wind up with you more hurt in the long run. But it was hard not to be a little bit hopeful when there's no more brutal couplings.

Simon hadn't choked you until you passed out or brought out his knife collection in the months since you learned of the pregnancy. The consideration he fucked you with played with your emotions, hormones no doubt helping that along. In some ways it hurt worse when he was nice to you. You never took Simon as the type to have a soft spot for pregnant women but at the end of the day if it saved you a bit of pain you were all for it.

The food was better too. While Simon hadn't necessarily withheld food before, it wasn't treated as anything more than a basic necessity, something to keep your body functioning and able to heal from the abuse he piled onto you. Now he was making sure there was fresh fruit in the fridge for if you get hungry between meals, smoothies to drink with breakfast, and a healthy mix of vegetables in the evenings. It was bizarre.

Maybe you were past the worst of it? You didn't know why being pregnant would have changed anything but maybe he realized he didn't need to be so rough with you. Your chances of survival were far increased if this was his new MO.

Over the next few months you tried your hardest but you were unable to keep from getting attached to the baby growing in your womb. This innocent little life had done nothing wrong and was the only thing still pure in your life. You didn't want to get attached—that's how you get hurt.

You knew it was over when you started calling them Charlie.

Never out loud where Simon could hear. No, only in your head where it was safe. And not all the time either. You were still trying your hardest to keep separated from this baby, nothing in your life stable enough to support a tiny human. But how could you be separate when it was your heart beating for theirs? Your lungs breathing for them? They needed you.

As you grew larger the separation disappeared further. You found yourself rubbing your stomach soothingly when they began kicking up a fuss swaying back and forth softly to rock them inside of you. You could imagine you were holding them in a nursery when you did this—walls painted a pretty shade of green or yellow, stuffed animals in the corners and murals painted around the windows.

Would you have told everyone or kept it a secret? As you got further along your stomach expanded rapidly. You certainly wouldn't have been able to hide it for the whole pregnancy. Would your friends have been excited or shocked when you told them? Would you be a good mom?

You cried in a heartbroken panic when you realized you were imaging holding and nursing them once they were born. This was going to destroy you.

\\\

Simon didn't say anything the day he caught you talking to them. The baby had been doing loop-de-loops and had tied your stomach into queasy knots. Rubbing a hand along the protrusion you soothed, "Shh shh, you're okay. There's no need for all that," —soft, calming— "You need to be nicer to me while you're in there bub, we're in this together, the two of us."

When you looked up you saw Simon staring from the doorway where he had stopped on his way past, caught by hearing you talk in such a soft voice. You freeze, waiting for him to say something about being soft or to make fun but he never does. Just looks at you before continuing down the hallway, footsteps as silent as the grave.

Maybe everything is going to be okay. It will never be good, not as long as you're kept here but maybe it will be okay.

The optimism grows ever so slightly, deep within your chest.

\\\

Looking at your newborn you felt shell-shocked. They had been inside of you for months, kicking your ribs and squishing your organs, and now you were holding them. It didn't feel real.

You had a little girl.

Her birth last week had been rough but ultimately uneventful. It was a home birth of course—just you, Simon and another man he called Garrick. While it lasted for most of the day it was worth it for the baby held in your arms.

You had just pulled her off your breast when Simon told you you were going to meet the Captain and his Darling.

" 'S time they met it," he said dismissively, eyes glancing at your baby before moving back up to yours, "we'll be leavin' in an hour."

You worried about this change in routine, certain nothing good will come from it. You haden't left the house before, Simon kept you firmly caged in all matters and you never thought you'd be longing to stay rather than to leave.

You couldn't see any way out of what was to come so you decided to make the most of it. Maybe this was going to be your chance. Your chance to get away from him and find safety for you and your daughter. Maybe you could tell his captain how deranged Simon was—some of the horrible things he'd done to you. Surely his captain would help.

Wouldn't he?

You didn't have enough information to be making concrete plans so you shifted them to the back burner. Moving into the bedroom to clean up, you dressed your baby in one of the three outfits she had, clothes you'd begged Simon for before she was born. Once done it was time to leave.

\\\

It's a beautiful house you pulled up to, deep in the countryside. You hadn't passed another building for over an hour when it finally came into view, tucked into the shadow of a mountain with trees sprawling in every direction as far as the eye could see.

It was a couple who greeted you, standing on the porch with a toddler. The little boy was perched in his father's arms, a stern-faced man with a truly impressive beard. The woman at his side was beautiful, dressed in a sundress with her stomach arching prominently in front of her. She smiled kindly as you walked up, leaning into her husband's side where he had his free arm wrapped around her waist.

The man introduced himself to you as John and at his wife's wide-eyed look tells you her name is Darling. She gathered herself quickly and smiled softly at you, welcoming you to their home.

"And this little munchkin is William," John continued, jostling the toddler slightly to make him laugh. His baby blue eyes swallowed his face, causing him to look downright angelic as he giggled and hid his face in his father's broad shoulder, smiling shyly towards you.

"Well, no use standing on the porch, come on inside," he turned to open the door, ushering Darling in first before stepping back to allow you and Simon through, smiling at you warmly when you pass. The crinkle around his eyes made him even more attractive than before.

Their home is warm and bright, windows letting in light from all sides with no curtains to block the beautiful view. You and Simon are guided to the living room where two sofas face each other, a comfortable well-worn recliner holding court over the room where it was tucked into place down at the end.

You took a seat on the inviting sofa, shuffling the baby into a better position against your chest; luckily she's fast asleep at this point so there's no fussing to be found. Smiling as Darling brings you a drink, you took a sip before setting down the glass, leaning back comfortably and cuddling your baby.

John and Simon immediately jumped into discussion which faded into background noise in your mind once you realize they aren't likely to be asking you any questions just yet.

You find yourself watching Darling, now holding William, perched across from you. Her and John look happy together with their eyes never straying far from the other. Darling sits poised next to John, returning each smile he frequently sent her way. His arm rested along the back of the couch, hand placed on Darling's neck, rubbing comforting circles into the skin.

Occasionally as he and Simon talk, he'll reach across with his free hand and rub it soothingly over her stomach, basking in her pregnancy. Or he'll brush a hand over William's hair who is fast falling asleep on his mother's shoulder.

You wonder if this is what your life would have been like, if you had never met Simon. A loving husband who was interested in being a father and adored his wife, a beautiful house in a quiet area. It felt idyllic.

As the time continues, William grows fussy. "It's past his nap time," Darling apologized, a distressed look crossing her face at the interruption to John and Simon's talk. As the toddler began to flail more forcefully, his little fist grabs the neckline of Darling's dress and pulls downward sharply, causing the fabric to lower along the front giving you a health view of her full breasts. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw the light blue ropes criss-crossing her skin.

They flowed along her curves, stunningly beautiful in their artistry if not for the angry skin glimpsed between the coils.

It was clear that while this rope harness was for aesthetic purposes that had not been the case in previous instances. If you had to guess you'd say Darling's breasts had been bound tightly, crushed to the point of cruelty. Shiny rope burns traced the swollen skin, creating an alternate pattern below the blue rope. You noticed that the burns looked to be about a week old.

The thought of being bound tightly enough to cause marks like that at the same time as you were nursing sent a wave of horror through you. It seemed you got your answer on whether or not to try and get help today.

Darling noticed her dress sagging and quickly pulled it back up, an embarrassed look on her face as she straightened the neckline, making sure everything was covered once more.

You looked at the two of them in a new light as you realized Darling was in the same situation as you. Different nuances perhaps but the same bones. It tugged at something inside you, something you thought all but gone by now. It's hard not to compare your situations, wondering which is worse; Simon at least is honest in his pursuit to hurt you but John feels much more sinister.

You tuned back in as John began to tell Simon about William's diet, "When it came time to begin weaning him, it was quite the undertaking. You'd think we were trying to kill him—the way he carried on at not being allowed the tit at all times of the day and night. Although," John chuckled sardonically, "I certainly can't blame him," reaching up he dragged the back of his fingers over the curve of Darling's breast. "I'd love to stay attached to Darling's tits all day too. It's one of my frequent daydreams."

Darling doesn't so much as lean away from John's stroke, conditioned to accept all of his advances you realize, trained away from flinching. It curdles your stomach and makes you want to cry when you realized you probably look the same way from her end.

Simon rolled his eyes, well used to his captain's quirks, "You and your tits, cap."

\\\

You felt awful for thinking it but John seemed to be a good father considering the circumstances. Nothing like Simon. He was holding his son, rocking back and forth as he softly rubbed his back, the sweet faced boy's eyes drooping shut, each blink lasting longer than the last.

To no one's surprise he was out cold within the next few minutes, John excusing himself to lay the toddler down in his crib.

Darling waited until he got back before she asked him if she could hold the baby, only turning to see if it was okay with you once he gave his approval. With an uncomfortable nod you pass your child over to her, transferring carefully, reluctant to let her out of your grasp.

The way she cooed at your baby with a soft smile settled something in your chest, causing you to smile back when Darling looked up at you to tell you she was beautiful.

John moved closer, peering at her over Darling's shoulder. With a smile he reached out to let her grasp his finger, chuckling when she tried to pull it into her mouth.

"She's a strong grip," he said to Simon approvingly.

Simon looked smug, "Of course, came from me, dinnit?" he boasted.

This was the first time he'd looked proud of her in any way. He was normally more than happy to ignore her and let you handle everything to do with her. It was weird seeing him brag to his captain as if showing off.

"Do you think she's going to take after you or Doll here?" John continued, waving her little fist around where she's still holding his finger. The baby gurgled in delight at the attention.

"I hope my ugly mug won't make it another generation," Simon groused, taking a sip of his beer, "Doll's got the looks between us, so here's hoping."

John hummed in thought, still looking at the baby. You almost said something when he began lifting her arms and legs, wondering what he was doing. "Healthy, I hope."

Simon huffed, "Did you have any doubts, sir?"

When John laughed and shifted back from your baby you found yourself relaxing slightly, breathing easier now that it was only Darling interacting with her once more.

The next half hour passed quietly with Simon and John carrying the bulk of the conversation except for the times they would direct questions to you or Darling. You noticed subtle indicators you had missed before—missed because you weren't looking for them. You saw the way Darling sat with her spine perfectly straight, as if she'd been trained to be presentable at all times. You saw the way she always deferred to John, never speaking first. The way John's hands possessively trailed along her skin more moments than not highlighted the covetous nature now that you were looking.

Before you realized it Simon has finished another beer and stood with a gruff, "Time to go, pet," directed towards you with a nod of acknowledgment towards John and Darling, still holding the baby.

You nodded your head, ready to leave this home that is as much of a prison as yours is simply with prettier walls. Standing, you gathered your things before moving towards Darling, ready to take your baby back. She smiled at you and rose to meet you after one final cuddle and forehead kiss, the resulting coo causing her to blink back brief tears.

You didn't think anything of it when John stands as well until he placed a hand on Darling's shoulder and said, "Sit back down, sweetheart."

With a quicksilver confused look thrown your way, she lowered herself carefully back onto the couch after a moments hesitation, baby still cradled in her arms and tucked close to her chest. You can see from where you stand that her breath had begun to match yours, coming slightly too fast. It was never a good thing when something unexpected happened.

John took a step to the side, moving directly between the two of you, cutting off your line of sight to your child. He planted his feet and crossed his arms over his big barrel of a chest, watching you, assessing.

You turned to look at Simon for help, unsure of what was going on but not liking it in the least. He didn't bother to reassure you, watching you as you struggle to put the pieces together, mind shying away from what you already suspect.

"I don't understand," you tried, grasping for straws. Simon's expression didn't change.

"Don't start being difficult now, you'll embarrass me in front of the captain and his missus," he deadpanned unaffected by the whole situation. "You'll be leavin' 'em, pet. The prices are going to be raising it."

What?

You stared at him uncomprehendingly as your brain spun. The Prices? Raise your baby? But it's your baby, not theirs. You turned to look back at John but he was a stone wall—no emotions played out on his face. Swallowing the saliva building in your mouth you turned again to Simon, "but that's my baby."

With an annoyed huff he began moving towards you, reaching out and taking a firm grip of your upper arm.

"Not repeating myself, pet," he grumbled, "it's time to leave."

Nonononono

You pulled away from him, trying to get closer to Darling and your baby, "That's my baby, give me my baby!" you yelled, breath coming in pants as sweat prickled your skin, adrenaline began to race in your veins in preparation to take your baby back.

"Give her back!" —jerking violently in Simon's grasp you clawed towards where you could see Darling peeking around John's broad frame, wide-eyed and panicked, gaze darting from you to John in stress, biting her lip until blood began to pool around her teeth.

Your baby began to cry in the commotion, screams setting off every instinct in your brain to get to her but you were held fast, unable to get a single step closer. You watched as Darling shushed her, bouncing slightly in an effort to soothe her.

You're not doing it right, she likes when you sway not bounce flashed across your thoughts as this woman tried to comfort your child.

You sounded like a harpy at this point, your screeches echoing harshly as you pulled and squirmed, fists beating against Simon as you tried to get free.

Simon soon lost his patience and physically moved you, pulling you into place in front of him before he wrapped his arm around your windpipe, squeezing harshly, restricting blood and oxygen both.

The last thing you saw before your vision went black is John standing behind Darling who had stood as if to come to you, hands pressed on her shoulders. Likely both in support and to keep her in place. Darling had your baby pressed to her chest, tears running down her face from horror filled eyes while blood streamed from her bitten lip.

You were still reaching for Charlie when everything went dark.

Next

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[tossawary]

When writing fanfiction, there are a lot of unknowns surrounding Mobei-Jun that I answer based on what I think is compelling, funny, and/or contrasts well against SQH | Airplane Bro. (Sometimes, based on what contrasts interestingly and/or hilariously against Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu.) The choices I make for MBJ also depend on what suits that particular story.

An interesting question: "What kind of literature does Mobei-Jun like?" He's Airplane Bro's Ideal Man / Dream Guy! It's fun to think about what Mobei-Jun's relationship might be to fiction.

One choice that I've pulled a few times now is having Mobei-Jun be functionally illiterate, mostly because I think that situation is an interesting / amusing contrast to the guy who technically wrote the world into existence. Airplane Bro was cranking out thousands of words per day to eat, selling out his honest passion for literature, and Mobei-Jun can't / doesn't read.

There are lots of different potential reasons for this! Maybe Mobei-Jun is dyslexic. Maybe he desperately needs reading glasses and doesn't realize it. (Yes, maybe half of his glaring is just squinting.) Maybe his education was really bad because his family tried to murder him too many times. Maybe he just doesn't have any interest in fiction or in reading as a hobby in general, because paper / writing is rare in the Demon Realm for a variety of reasons and he's been busy building more relevant skills.

(Airplane Bro is shocked and offended, yes, but mostly because Mobei-Jun somehow successfully hid being unable to read from him for two or more decades. All of those "you read it" and "you write it" orders suddenly make so much sense.)

Another direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" that I've been enjoying lately as a premise is that Mobei-Jun is the sort of person who would have genuinely enjoyed "Proud Immortal Demon Way". But, like, in a weird way. Like, maybe Mobei-Jun isn't there for the women or the power fantasy, but he's fascinated by the cage of dissatisfaction, misery, and cruelty that the protagonist is building around himself using empty pleasures and merciless vengeance. Mobei-Jun is there for the tragedy. Everyone else in the comments section would think that he's a weirdo for different reasons, including Airplane Bro, but Mobei-Jun is (by accident) operating on a level where he sees the vision.

Alternate direction on "Mobei-Jun would like PIDW, actually": maybe he would like it because he actually loves trashy drama and stupid catfights. He's there for the comedy. He grew up in an environment where his father stole his uncle's wife and his own uncle tried to kill him multiple times, after all. In PIDW itself, right-hand man Mobei-Jun somehow successfully suffered years upon years of Luo Binghe's harem nonsense, and maybe Mobei-Jun was having the time of his life watching Sha Hualing start shit in the harem, actually!

Maybe in a Modern AU, Airplane Bro would try to sound intelligent and cultured by talking to his rich boss / boyfriend about classy literature, only to find out that Mobei-Jun basically only watches reality television competitions where people are constantly trying to tear each other's hair out for money. If people aren't screaming in each other's faces over a spilled glass of wine, throwing plates at each other over a stolen boyfriend or a ruined wedding, or backstabbing each other via wardrobe sabotage to get ahead, then Mobei-Jun is bored. Fighting matches or extremely dangerous sports are also fine, though, sure. (Airplane Bro doesn't like any of this stuff. He's a fantasy novel guy. He has no idea how to react to this.)

Another funny direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" is that maybe "Proud Immortal Demon Way" wouldn't actually be weird ENOUGH for Mobei-Jun's tastes. Maybe Mobei-Jun would be like that guy who claims "if I can guess the twist, then it's not suspense - suspense is when I don't know what's going to happen next, period" and reads long-running, amateur, foreign, abstract web-novels that he has to put through an online translator himself. Maybe in a Modern AU with this opinion, Mobei-Jun loyally watches telenovelas and Bollywood soap operas. Airplane Bro comes into the room and says, "Wow, not even any subtitles? You can understand what they're saying?" and Mobei-Jun says sincerely, "No. You have to figure out what's happening without them. This is the intended viewing experience."